i  aiisma'jM 


SOUTHERN  BRANCH. 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNt*, 

LIBRARY, 

iLOS  ANGELES,  CALIF. 


NOVE  SOLBAKKEN,  ARNE,  AND 
EARLY  TALES  AND  SKETCHES 


BJORNSTJERNE  BJORNSON 
TRANSLATED   FROM    THE   NORSE 

BY 

RASMUS  B.  ANDERSON 

AUTHOR  OF   "  NORSE   MYTHOLOGY,"  "  VIKING    TALES   OF   THE   NORTH,' 
"AMERICA  NOT  DISCOVEB  '   bUS," 

AND  OTIIEK    ' 


3tutt)or'?  tuition 


BOSTON 

HOUGHTON,  MIFFLIN  AND  COMPANY 

New  York  :  11  East  Seventeenth  Street 

@&e  fitoetsi&e  pres?,  <aTamliri&ge 
1885 


Copyright,  1881, 1882, 
BY  HOUGHTON,  MIFFLIN   &  CO. 

All  rights  reserved. 


The  Riverside  Press,  Cambridge! 
Eleotrotyped  and  Printed  by  B,  0.  Houghton  &  Co. 


E 


CONTENTS. 


-♦- 


PAGE 


BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH  OF  BJORNSTJERNE  BJORN- 
SON 5 

SYNNOVE  SOLBAKKEN 25 


PREFACE  TO  ARNE               , 5 

ARNE 0 

EARLY  TALES  AND  SKETCHES. 

The  Railroad  and  the  Churchyard  ....  203 

Tiirokd 248 

A  Dangerous  Wooing 264 

The  Bear  Hunter 272 

The  Father 284 

The  Eagle's  Nest 290 


PUBLISHERS'  NOTE. 


The  present  edition  of  Bjornstjerne  Bjorn- 
son's  works  is  published  by  special  arrangement 
with  the  author.  Mr.  Bjornson  has  designated 
Prof.  Rasmus  B.  Anderson  as  his  American 
translator,  cooperates  with  him,  and  revises 
each  work  before  it  is  translated,  thus  giving 
his  personal  attention  to  this  edition. 


BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH 


BJOBNSTJER^E  BJOE^SOJST. 


Only  a  very  condensed  sketch  can  here  be  given 
of  the  great  Norse  poet,  novelist,  dramatist,  orator, 
and  political  leader,  whose  works  are  now  offered  to 
the  American  public. 

Bjornstjerne  Bjbrnson  was  born  December  8,  1832, 
in  Kvikne,  a  rural  district  in  the  central  part  of  Nor- 
way, at  the  foot  of  the  beautiful  Dovre  Mountains, 
where  his  father  was  a  Lutheran  priest.  The  scen- 
ery is  grand  and  majestic,  though  rather  austere ; 
and  life  is  of  a  somewhat  solitary  character,  for  the 
farm-houses  here,  as  elsewhere  in  Norway,  are  widely 
separated  from  each  other. 

While  the  poet  was  yet  a  mere  boy,  his  father  was 
transferred  to  the  celebrated  Romsdal,  one  of  the 
finest  valleys  in  Western  Norway.  Here  the  sombre 
hues  of  the  mountain-masses  are  mingled  with  the 
variegated  splendor  cf  the  valley.  Dark  fjords 
stretch  then-  long  arms  into  the  country.  The  mount- 
ains, whose  summits  are  crowned  with  ice  and  snow, 
rise  almost  perpendicularly  from  the  water's  edge  in 


G  BIOGRAPHICAL   SKETCH    OF 

some  places,  while  in  others  golden  fields,  green  mead- 
ows, and  fine  forests  lie  between  the  fjord  and  the 
mountain.  The  ravines  on  the  mountain-tops  are 
filled  with  mighty  glaciers,  that  clasp  their  frosty 
arms  around  the  valley,  and  send  down,  like  streams 
of  tears  along  the  weather-beaten  cheeks  of  the  mount- 
ains, countless  waterfalls  and  cascades,  overarched 
by  beautiful  rainbows,  and  falling  in  endless  variety 
into  the  valley  and  fjord  below. 

The  environments  are  of  no  slight  importance  in 
the  development  of  genius,  and  we  find  the  impres- 
sions inspired  by  the  weird  scenes  amid  which  Bjorn- 
sou  spent  the  days  of  his  childhood,  constantly  unfold- 
ing blossoms  in  his  poems,  novels,  and  dramas.  Nor  is 
it  alone  the  impressions  that  these  scenes  made  upon 
him  that  are  to  be  taken  into  account.  The  Norse 
folk  have  been  looking  upon  these  same  silver-crested 
mountains,  from  which  the  summer  sun  never  de- 
parts, upon  the  same  ocean,  islands,  lakes,  fjords,  and 
flower-clad  valleys,  and  have  listened  to  the  same 
melodious  brooks,  babbling  streams,  thundering  riv- 
ers, roaring  waterfalls,  and  soughing  groves,  for  gen- 
erations. These  surroundings  have  more  or  less 
colored  the  Noi"se  myths,  epics,  folk-lore  tales,  bal- 
lads, melodies,  proverbs,  eddas,  sagas,  customs,  man- 
ners ;  in  short,  all  the  products  of  the  Norse  mind  and 
heart,  the  whole  life  of  the  Norsemen.  In  estimat- 
ing Bjonison's  genius,  therefore,  the  influence  of  the 
environments  and  of  Norse  traditions  upon  countless 
generations    of    his    forefathers    must    not    be    over- 


BJORNSTJERNE  bjornson.  7 

looked.  We  hope  to  be  understood  when  we  say, 
briefly,  that  the  external,  physical  nature  of  Norway 
largely  modified  and  moulded  the  ancient  Norsemen's 
character ;  that  nature  and  the  Norse  character  thus 
formed  gave  color  to  the  Norsemen's  religion,  tales, 
traditions,  and  other  intellectual  products ;  that  the 
climate  and  scenery  of  Norway,  together  with  the 
accumulative  influence  of  the  national  character  and 
the  popular  traditions  and  literature  upon  the  people 
from  generation  to  generation,  produced  a  full-blown 
flower  in  the  genius  of  Bjornstjerne  Bjornson ;  and, 
finally,  that  this  principle  may  be  applied  to  any  great 
national  writer  or  artist  in  any  country.  Nor  do  we 
by  this  statement  mean  to  exclude  the  influence  exer- 
cised by  foreign  nations  and  foreign  literatures  upon 
Bjornson  himself,  and  upon  his  ancestors. 

At  the  age  of  twelve  Bjornson  was  sent  to  the 
Molde  grammar  school.  Molde  is  a  small  coast  town 
in  Romsdal,  which  is  celebrated  on  account  of  the 
grand  and  beautiful  scenery  with  which  it  is  sur- 
rounded. But  he  was  a  dull  scholar.  When  he  was 
admonished  to  apply  himself,  in  order  that  he  might 
learn  enough  to  enter  the  university,  he  answered, 
"  They  want  me  to  study  and  read  so  much,  while  I 
would  prefer  to  write."  He  had  already  begun  to 
think  of  becoming  a  poet,  and  of  course  the  greatest 
of  all  poets,  though  he  was  constantly  reminded  that 
he  was  thought  stupid.  People  called  the  boy  an 
agitator.  When  he  was  only  fifteen  years  old,  he 
organized  a   society  of  boys   and  founded   a  paper 


8  BIOGRAPHICAL   SKETCH   OF 

written  by  hand.  Its  name  was,  as  might  be  ex- 
pected, "  Liberty."  In  the  society  political  matters 
were  discussed,  and  Bjornson  was  the  leader  of  the 
republican  party.  This  was  in  the  year  1848,  when 
revolutionary  ideas  found  their  way  even  to  the  re- 
motest valleys  of  Norway.  Bjornson's  society  had  a 
debate  on  the  election  of  president  of  the  French 
republic,  and  he  voted  for  Lamartine,  while  the  ma- 
jority voted  for  Louis  Napoleon. 

Nor  did  Bjornson  distinguish  himself  at  the  uni- 
versity in  Christiania,  whither  he  was  sent  in  1852. 
He  continued  to  neglect  his  regular  studies,  and  de- 
voted himself  to  poetry  and  journalism.  Caring  but 
little  for  books,  he  studied  all  the  more  earnestly 
the  volumes  of  nature  and  human  society,  both  of 
which  he  has  interpreted  with  remarkable  force  and 
beauty.  It  is  related  that  a  Swede,  who  visited 
Christiania  in  1853,  and  was  struck  by  the  fine  ap- 
pearance of  a  young  man  in  a  gathering  of  students, 
turned  to  one  near  him  and  inquired  who  that  young 
man  was.  The  answer  was,  "  Bjornstjerne  Bjornson, 
a  young  man  who  wants  to  become  a  genius."  One 
of  the  by-standers,  who  had  listened  to  the  com 
tion,  added,  "  I  would  rather  call  him  a  young  genius 
who  wants  to  become  a  man."  "While  pursuing  his 
.miversity  course,  which  he  never  completed,  lie  pro- 
luced  his  first  literary  work  of  any  considerable 
length.  It  was  a  drama,  entitled  "  Valborg."  It 
was  accepted  by  the  managers  of  the  theatre,  but, 
before  it  was  played,  he  took  it  back  and  destroyed 


BJOEXSTJERNE   BJORNSON.  9 

it.  He  had  already  outgrown  it,  and  decided  that  it 
would  not  do  him  credit.  For  some  time  afterward 
(1854-56)  he  devoted  his  time  mainly  to  dramatic 
criticism  and  to  reviewing  books  for  "  Aftenhladet," 
later  also  for  "  Morgenbladet,"  and  to  corresponding 
for  provincial  newspapers. 

Norway,  since  her  separation  from  Denmark  in 
1814,  had  been  striving  to  create  a  national  literature, 
and  when  Bjornson  entered  the  university  in  1852, 
the  first  literary  epoch  of  the  young  and  free  nation 
(the  Wergeland-Welhaven  epoch)  was  about  being 
completed.  It  had  produced  Maurits  Christoffer 
Hansen,  the  founder  of  the  Norwegian  novel ;  Johan 
Welhaven,  the  leader  of  the  conservative  party, 
which  aimed  to  build  up  a  Norwegian  literature  on 
the  foundation  of  foreign,  particularly  Danish  cult- 
ure ;  and  his  great  opponent,  Henrik  Wergeland, 
under  whose  banner  gathered  all  the  liberal  spirits, 
all  who  had  faith  in  the  ability  of  Norway  to  develop 
an  entirely  independent  national  literature,  art,  and 
life.  Their  object  was  to  root  out  every  trace  of 
foreign  influence.  This  first  epoch  had  also  produced 
Asbjbrnson  and  Moe,  the  collectors  of  the  popular 
tales  of  Norway ;  the  great  poet,  Andreas  Munch  ; 
the  historians,  P.  A.  Munch  and  Rudolf  Keyser ; 
wnd  a  considerable  number  of  eminent  scholars, 
i.mong  whom  may  be  noted  Sars  the  naturalist,  Han- 
ften  the  astronomer,  Abel  the  mathematician,  Aasen 
the  linguist  and  creator  of  a  new  language  for 
Norway,  based  on  the  dialects.     The  famous  violin" 


10  BIOGRAPHICAL    SKETCH   OF 

1st,  Ole  Bull,  also  belongs  to  this  epoch,  and  around 
him  cluster  a  magnificent  group  of  musical  com- 
posers, painters,  and  other  artists. 

With  the  beginning  of  the  second  half  of  this  cent- 
ury we  enter  upon  the  second  epoch  of  modern  Nor- 
wegian literature  —  the  so-called  Bjbrnson  -  Ibsen 
epoch.  The  poets  of  this  period  are  Bjornstjerne 
Bjbrnson,  Henrik  Ibsen,  Jonas  Lie,  and  Kristofer 
Janson.  Of  these  Bjbrnson  is  decidedly  the  most 
conspicuous,  and  may  be  said  to  be  the  legitimate 
successor  to  Henrik  YVergeland,  with  whom  he  has 
much  in  common  both  as  poet  and  political  leader. 
He  is  in  fact  carrying  forward  the  work  left  unfin- 
ished by  Wergeland ;  while  "VVelhaven,  the  great  an- 
tagonist of  "Wergeland,  has  found  no  eminent  suc- 
cessor in  the  ranks  of  living  Norse  writers. 

Bjbrnson's  literary  career  really  begins  with  the 
year  1857,  when  he  published  his  first  novel.  Since 
then  his  life  has  been  singularly  varied  and  active, 
and  in  the  midst  of  his  many  conflicting  occupations 
he  has  been  an  exceedingly  prolific  writer. 

Twice  he  has  been  director  of  a  theatre  :  the  first 
time  in  1858,  when  Ole  Bull  put  the  theatre  which 
he  had  founded  in  Bergen  into  his  hands;  and  the 
second  time  in  1865,  when  the  management  of  the 
Christiania  royal  theatre  was  intrusted  to  him.  He 
held  both  positions,  however,  only  I'm-  a  brief  space 
of  time.  Three  times  he  has  entered  the  field  of 
journalism;  the  first  in  1856,  US  editor  of  his  own 
oaper,  the  "  Hlustreret   Folkehlad;"  the  second  in 


BJORNSTJERNE   BJORNSON.  11 

1859,  as  co-editor  of  "  Af tenbladet ; "  and  the  third 
in  1866,  as  editor  and  publisher  of  "  Norsk  Folke- 
blad."  Since  1856  he  has  been  a  constant  and  dili- 
gent contributor  to  the  public  press  on  all  ques- 
tions of  national  interest.  His  articles  and  addresses 
would  alone,  if  collected,  fill  many  large  volumes. 
His  winters  he  has  frequently  spent  abroad,  in  Den- 
mark, Germany,  France,  and  Italy,  and  he  is  at  this 
writing  visiting  the  United  States,  whose  citizens 
everywhere  give  an  enthusiastic  welcome  to  the  tall, 
erect,  broad-shouldered,  and  silver-tongued  son  of  the 
frozen  North. 

His  first  novel,  produced  iu  1857,  was  "  Synnbve 
Solbakken,"  the  volume  now  presented  to  our  readers 
in  an  English  dress.  It  at  once  made  a  profound  im- 
pression, and  established  his  reputation  both  at  home 
and  abroad,  not  only  on  account  of  the  simple  and 
charming  plot,  but  also  for  the  short,  direct,  pithy, 
saga  style  in  which  it  was  written  ;  and  here  we  may 
add  that  the  author  has  been  growing  increasingly 
terse  and  concise  in  his  style  from  that  day  to  this. 
It  became  the  corner-stone  of  a  new  school  of  litera- 
ture, and  when  we  take  into  consideration  that  the 
"Wergeland-Welhaven  epoch  continued  to  be  more  or 
less  deeply  imbued  with  Danish  culture,  modern  Nor- 
wegian literature  may  fairly  be  said  to  begin  with 
"  Synnbve  Solbakken."  It  was  the  first  great  national 
work  unimpressed  with  the  old  Danish  stamp.  As  is 
the  case  in  the  old  Norse  sagas,  portraits  of  the  char- 
acters are  not  drawn,  nor  are  his  works  marred  by 


12  BIOGRAPHICAL   SKETCH   OF 

lengthy  dissertations  from  a  moral  standpoint.  In- 
steatl  of  long,  fine-spun  declamations  of  this  sort,  he 
lets  his  characters  speak  for  themselves,  and  leaves  it 
to  the  reader  to  judge  whether  they  are  good  or  had. 
He  does  not  stop  to  describe  separately  the  details  of 
features  and  dress,  but  he  watches  his  opportunity  to 
give  glimpses  of  them  as  the  story  progresses.  He  por- 
trays his  men  and  women  while  he  tells  what  they  do 
and  say,  and  thus  the  reader  knows,  when  he  has  fin- 
ished the  book,  how  Synnove,  or  Thorbjorn,  or  Aslak 
must  have  appeared  to  the  author.  As  before  stated, 
there  has  been  no  interruption  in  Bjornson's  literary 
activity,  and  he  has  given  the  world  a  series  of  novels 
and  dramas,  which  have  found  their  way  into  all  lands 
and  been  translated  into  many  tongues.  They  all 
reveal  a  startling  psychological  insight  and  acquaint- 
ance with  the  deepest  laws  of  human  life.  His  novels 
are,  besides  "  Synnove  Solbakken  ;  "  "  Arne  ;  "  "A 
Happy  Boy  ;  "  "  The  Fisher  Maiden  ;  "  "  The  Bridal 
March  ;  "  "  Magnhild  ;  "  "  Guiseppe  Mansana  ;  "  and 
several  short  stories.  His  dramas  are:  "  Halte  I Iul- 
da  ;  "  "Mellem  Slagene  "  (Between  the  Battles); 
'Kong  Svserre;"  "Sigurd  Slembe;"  "  Maria  Stu- 
art ;  "  "  De  Nygif te  "  (The  Honeymoon) ;"  Sigurd 
Jorsalfar"  (Sigurd  the  Crusader);  "En  Fallit  "  (A 
Bankrupt)  ;  "  Redaktoren  "  (The  Editor)  ;  "  Kon 
gen"  (The  King);  "Leonarda;"  and  '•  Det  Ny 
System"  (The  New  System).  His  lyric  and  national 
songs  are  published  in  one  volume,  and  he  is  also  lht3 
author  of  an  epic  poem,  published  in  a  separate  vol- 


BJORXSTJERXE   BJORNSON.  13 

ume,  entitled  "  Arnljot  Gelline."  When  we  add  to 
this  a  small  volume,  "Vis  Knut"  (Wise  Knut),  and 
his  little  volume  "  Republiken  "  (The  Republic), 
issued  late  in  I860,  we  have  completed  the  list  of  his 
pablished  works. 

Mr.  Bjornson  is  without  a  peer  in  the  north  of 
Europe  as  novelist,  national  and  lyric  poet,  orator, 
and  contributor  to  the  daily  press  ;  and  as  dramatist 
he  knows  but  one  competitor  for  the  first  rank,  Hen- 
rik  Ibsen,  whose  "Love's  Comedy,"  "  Brand,"  and 
"  Peer  Gynt  "  Edm.  W.  Gosse,  in  his  "  Studies  in  the 
Literature  of  Northern  Europe"  (London,  1879), 
characterizes  as  "  a  trilogy,  perhaps,  for  sustained 
vigor  of  expression,  for  affluence  of  execution,  and  for ' 
brilliance  of  dialogue,  the  greatest  of  modern  times." 
On  the  other  hand,  it  is  interesting  to  notice  that 
Robert  Buchanan,  an  equally  high  authority  in  liter- 
ature, pronounces  Audhild,  one  of  the  female  charac- 
ters in  "  Sigurd  Slembe,"  Bjornson's  great  dramatic 
trilogy,  "  a  creation  worthy  of  Goethe  at  his  best,"  — 
worthy,  in  his  opinion,  "  to  rank  with  '  Clarchen,' 
'  Marguerite,'  and  '  Mignon  '  as  a  masterpiece  of  deli- 
cate characterization."  Bjornson  has  never  been 
surpassed  in  his  delineation  of  delicate  female  types, 
both  in  his  novels  and  dramas,  and  this  furnishes  one 
of  the  best  proofs  of  his  claim  to  rank  among  the 
master  poets  of  any  age.  Bjornson's  dramas  have 
nad  a  boundless  influence  upon  modern  thought  in 
Scandinavia,  and  we  might  include  Germany,  and 
when  properly  translated  they  will  not  fail  to  secure 
him  the  homage  of  England  and  America. 


14  BIOGRAPHICAL    SKETCH   OF 

It  may  be  said  that  Bjornson's  great  work,  or 
rather  the  red  thread  running  through  all  of  Bjorn- 
son's works,  is  a  struggle  for  the  independence  of 
Norway  ;  an  effort  to  secure  an  emancipation  and  de- 
velopment  of  all  those  intellectual  energies  that  Nor- 
way may  properly  call  her  own.  We  discover  this 
tendency  alike  in  his  novels,  poems,  dramas,  and  in 
his  miscellaneous  writings.  He  loves  his  country, 
and  therefore  takes  a  profound  interest  in  every 
question  that  concerns  its  welfare ;  and  it  is  safe  to 
say  that  his  name  is  intimately  connected  with  every 
important  issue  that  has  been  raised  in  Norway  dur- 
ing the  past  twenty  years.  In  every  question  his 
words  and  his  songs  have  been  heard  either  pro  or 
con.  In  many  movements  he  has  been  the  first  who 
has  spoken.  His  literary  works  are  thoroughly  im- 
bued with  the  progressive  spirit  of  the  age.,  In  his 
novel  "  Magnhild  "  and  in  his  drama  "Leonarda"  he 
has  championed  the  rights  of  women  and  exposed  the 
wrongs  in  private  and  domestic  life  in  a  manner  thai 
would  delight  the  heart  of  Julia  Ward  Howe  or  T. 
W.  Higginson.  He  saw  the  corruption  of  the  press 
«n«l  wrote  his  drama  "  The  Editor."  He  saw  the 
corruption  in  the  world  of  trade  and  commerce,  and 
wrote  his  drama  "The  Bankrupt;"  a  play,  by  the 
way,  which  it  seems  might  be  made  very  successful 
on  the  American  stage.  Presented  by  an  actor  like 
our  Barrett,  it  could  not  fail  to  make  a  powerful  im- 
pression. In  his  drama  "The  King,"  Bjornsou  lias 
given  the  fullesl  and   Freest  expression  to  his  repub- 


BJORNSTJERNE   BJORNSON.  15 

lican  tenets.  He  there  represents  monarckism  as  a  lie, 
and  lets  the  king  kimself  advocate  tke  republic  as  tke 
ideal  form  of  government.  To  tkose  wko  suggest  ex- 
cuses for  and  favor  tke  monarchy  as  a  temporary  evil, 
as  a  necessary  school,  in  which  the  nation  is  to  be  edu- 
cated and  ripened  for  self-government,  he  makes  the 
king,  who  has  come  to  look  at  kis  royal  position  as 
false  and  abnormal,  address  this  striking  question  : 
"  Is  it,  tken,  necessary  tkat  a  people,  on  their  eternal 
progress  toward  the  truth,  should  march  with  a  lie  as 
their  leader?"  That  a  drama  enunciating  such  prin- 
ciples could  not  be  played  at  the  royal  theatre,  needs 
not  to  be  stated;  but  those  who  have  embraced  the 
doctrine  that  all  men  are  created  equal  and  endowed 
with  an  inalienable  right  to  life,  liberty,  and  the  pur- 
suit of  happiness,  hail  in  Bjornson  the  promise  of  a 
Norwegian  republic.  With  a  keen  eye  to  discover 
corruption  and  hypocrisy  in  the  church  as  well  as 
elsewhere,  he  has  broken  many  a  lance  with  the 
priests,  and  has  dealt  many  a  blow  to  the  orthodox 
bigots  of  his  time. 

Bjornson's  political  speeches  are  landmarks  in  the 
national  development  of  Norway  ;  and  his  lectures 
are  models  of  eloquence,  both  as  regards  style  and 
delivery.  One  of  the  most  splendid  efforts  of  his 
life  as  an  orator  was  his  address  at  Ole  Bull's  grave, 
on  August  24,  1880,  to  an  audience  of  more  than 
twenty  thousand  people.  Ole  Bull's  funeral  was 
riore  magnificent  and  solemn  than  if  he  had  been  a 
king;    but  the  greatest   honor  of  the   day  was  en* 


16  BIOGRAPHICAL   SKETCH   OF 

bodied  in  Bjornson's  remarks,  of  which  every  word 
was  a  diamond  in  the  crown  of  the  violinist's  immor- 
tal fame. 

When  Bjornson  writes  a  national  song  it  is  at  once 
taken  up  and  sung  by  the  whole  nation,  from  Lindes- 
nes  to  North  Cape.  The  national  hymn  of  Norway 
to-day  is  his  song  written  in  1859,  of  which  we  will 
attempt  to  translate  two  or  three  stanzas :  — 

"Yes,  we  love  with  fond  devotion 

Norway's  mountain  domes, 
Rising,  storm-lashed,  o'er  the  ocean, 

With  their  thousand  homes; 
Love  our  country,  while  we're  bending 

Thoughts  to  fathers  grand, 
And  to  saga-night  that's  sending 

Dreams  upon  our  land. 

"  Harald  Norway's  throne  ascended 

By  his  mighty  sword  ; 
Hakon  Norway's  rights  defended 

Helped  by  Oyvind's  word  ; 
From  the  blood  of  Olaf  sainted 

Christ's  red  cross  arose; 
From  its  peaks  King  Sverre  tainted 

Bishops  dared  oppose. 

"Peasants  all  (heir  axes  brightened, 
Ready  for  each  foe ; 
#      Tordenskjold  in  battles  lightened 
Set  the  land  aglow. 
Even  women  did  assemble 

On  the  bloody  plain; 
Others  could  but  weep  and  tremble, 
But  't  was  not  in  vain." 

Another  very  popular  BOUg  by  lijornson  is  his 
''Over  lie  huie  Fjselde  "  (Over  the  Lofty  Mountains) 


BjORNSTJERNE   bjornson.  17 

which  is  very  characteristic  of  the  author's  style,  and 
expresses  in  sublime  verses  the  longings  and  aspiration 
of  the  young  Norsemen.  It  is,  in  fact,  an  expression 
of  the  yearning  of  the  young  Norway,  and  is  not  in- 
applicable to  the  ambitious  struggles  of  the  young 
Bjornson  himself.  Mr.  Bjornson  told  us,  when  we 
visited  him  in  1873,  that  he  considered  it  his  best 
poem.  We  are  happy  to  be  able  to  give  a  spirited 
and  faithful  metrical  version  of  it  from  the  pen  of 
Auber  Forestier,  the  author  of  "  Echoes  from  Mist- 
land,  and  translator  of  Kristofer  Janson's  "  The 
Spell-Bound  Fiddler,"  and  various  other  works. 

"  Oh,  how  I  wonder  what  I  should  see 
Over  the  lofty  mountains  ! 
Snow  here  shuts  out  the  view  from  me. 
Round  about  stands  the  green  pine-tree, 
Longing  to  hasten  over  ; 
Dare  it  become  a  rover  V 

"  Soars  the  eagle,  with  strong  wing  play, 
Over  the  lofty  mountains ; 

Rows  through  the  young  and  vigorous  day, 

Sating  his  courage  in  quest  of  prey; 

"When  he  will,  swooping  downward, 
Tow'rd  far-off  lands  gazing  onward. 

"  Leaf-heavy  apple,  wilt  thou  not  go 
Over  the  lofty  mountains  V 

Forth  putting  buds  'mid  summer's  glow, 

Thou  wilt  till  next  time  wait,  I  know; 
All  of  these  birds  art  swinging, 
Knowing  not  what  they  're  singing. 

"  He  who  for  twenty  years  long'd  to  flee 
Over  the  lofty  mountains, 
2 


-       18  BIOGRAPHICAL   SKETCH   OF 

Nor  beyond  them  can  hope  to  see, 
Smaller  each  year  feels  himself  to  be; 
Hears  what  the  birds  are  singing, 
Thou  art  with  confidence  swinging. 

"  Bird,  with  thy  chatt'ring,  what  wouldst  thou  here, 
Over  the  lofty  mountains  ? 
Fairer  the  lands  beyond  must  appear, 
Higher  the  trees,  and  the  skies  far  more  clear; 
Wouldst  thou  but  longing  be  bringing, 
"Bird,  but  no  wings  with  thy  singing? 

"  Shall  I  the  journey  never  take 
Over  the  lofty  mountains  ? 
Most  my  poor  thoughts  on  this  rock-wall  break? 
Must  it  a  dread,  ice-bound  prison  make, 
Shutting  at  last  in  around  me, 
Till  for  my-tomb  it  surround  me  ? 

"  Forth  will  I !  forth  !     Oh,  far,  far  away, 
Over  the  lofty  mountains  ! 
0k       ^  I  will  be  crushed  and  consumed  if  I  stay  ; 

Courage  tow'rs  up  and  seeks  the  way, 
Let  it  its  flight  now  be  taking, 
Not  on  this  rock-wall  be  breaking ! 

"  One  day  I  know  I  shall  wander  afar 
Over  the  lofty  mountains  ! 
Lord,  my  God,  is  thy  door  ajar  ? 
Good  is  thy  home,  where  the  blessed  are; 
Keep  it,  though  closed  a  while  longer, 
Till  my  deep  longing  grow  stronger." 

The  stirring  music  written  for  both  of  these  poems 
will  be  found  in  the  "  Norway  Music  Album,"  re- 
cently published  by  Oliver  Ditson  &  Co.,  Boston. 

We  cannot  close  this  brief  sketch  of  Mr.  Bjornson 
without  giving. an  account  of  an  interesting -'ncident 


BJOENSTJEBNE    BJOKNSON.  19        • 

ivhich  occurred  in  Madison,  "Wisconsin,  during  his 
visit  here  in  the  beginning  of  January,  1881. 

"While  Mr.  Bjornson  was  stopping  at  the  hotel  in 
this  city,  an  elderly  man  came  to  see  him.  At  tho 
sight  of  Bjornson  the  man  was  very  much  moved,  — 
sobbed  like  a  child,  the  tears  choking  his  voice,  while 
he  attempted  to  greet  the  great  skald  of  the  North. 
Mr.  Bjornson  also  appeared  to  be  deeply  touched  by 
the  sudden  appearance  of  his  guest,  and,  grasping  his 
hand,  he  exclaimed,  "  Why,  are  you  here,  my  dear 
Arne  ?  "  The  scene  of  their  meeting  was  intensely 
affecting,  and  the  reason  for  it  will  be  evident  from 
the  following  explanation : 1  Arne  is  not  the  "  Arne  " 
of  Bjornson's  novel  of  that  name,  but  Arne  Kulter- 
stad,  a  Norwegian,  whose  life  he  had  saved  twenty 
years  ago.  He  is  a  man  about  fifty  years  old,  has 
a  large  frame,  and  in  his  younger  days  must  have 
been  the  very  picture  of  strength  and  beauty. 

Some  twenty-five  years  ago,  Arne,  a  fine-looking, 
vigorous  youug  man,  who  had  been  a  sergeant  in  th<j 
Norwegian  army,  and  as  such  had  become  noted  for 
his  athletic  strength,  as  well  as  for  his  kindly  disposi- 
tion and  honest  character,  had  a  serious  feud  with 
one  of  his  neighbors  in  his  mountain  home  in  Val- 
ders,  a  valley  in  the  central  part  of  Norway.  His 
tnemy  was  a  dissipated,  mean,  cringing,  and  bas^ 
villain,  who   at  a  party   succeeded  in  getting  Arne 

1  Mr.  BjiJrnson  told  the  story  in  detail,  in  my  presence,  to  a 
reporter  of  the  Madison  Slate  Journal,  from  which  I  have,  in. 
part,  transcribed  it  for  these  pages. 


20  BIOGRAPHICAL    SKETCH   OF 

drunk,  and  persuaded  him  to  sign  papers  by  which 
he  lost  his  old  homestead.  The  feud  grew  in  bitter- 
ness from  year  to  year.  One  day,  when  business 
had  brought  both  to  the  same  place,  it  came  to 
blows  between  them,  and  his  foe  drew  a  knife,  and 
gave  Arne  severe  wounds  in  his  hand  and  arm,  the 
marks  of  which  he  bears  to  this  day.  There  were 
many  other  aggravating  circumstances,  among  which 
may  be  mentioned,  as  the  worst,  the  fact  that  upon 
the  farm  which  his  enemy  had  gotten  possession 
of  Arne's  father  lived  and  received  his  annual  al- 
lowance, according  to  Norwegian  law.  When  the 
father  lay  upon  his  death-bed,  Arne  visited  him,  and 
learned  that  he  had  been  ill-treated,  and  that  his 
death  had  probably  been  hastened  by  the  cruelty  of 
the  owner  of  the  farm.  This  so  enraged  Arne  that 
revenge  was  a  mere  question  of  time  and  opportunity. 
The  opportunity  was  not  easily  found,  for  the  villain 
feared  Arne,  and  shrewdly  avoided  meeting  him. 
lie  never  went  out  alone.  One  morning,  early,  he 
had,  however,  deemed  it  safe  to  go  a  short  distance 
from  home  with  his  team.  But  it  so  happened  that 
Arne  too  had  gone  out  that  morning  with  his  rifle  to 
mint,  when  on  returning  he  saw  his  enemy,  and  at 
once  determined  to  give  him  a  mark  at  least  as  severe 
as  the  one  he  bore  himself.  He  raised  his  gun  to 
take  sight.  He  was  one  of  the  best  marksmen  in  the 
country,  and  had  brought  down  many  a  bird  on  the 
wing;  but,  unfortunately,  as  his  enemy  was  walking 
by  the  side  of  his  team,  he  happened  to  stumble  just 


BJORXSTJERNE    BJOENSON.  21 

at  the  moment  when  Arne  pulled  the  trigger,  and,  in- 
stead of  giving  him  a  severe  wound  in  the  arm,  as  he 
intended,  the  bullet  entered  his  breast,  and  he  soon 
after  expired. 

Arne  was  convicted  of  murder,  and  sentenced  to 
death.  This  was  in  the  lower  court.  The  case  was 
appealed.  Mark  now  the  remarkable  incident  which 
occurred !  Having  been  sentenced  to  death  by  this 
lower  court,  he  was  to  be  transferred  to  an  adjoining 
bailiwick.  The  bailiff  who  had  him  in  charge,  know- 
ing his  prisoner's  honesty  and  truthfulness,  did  what 
probably  no  other  bailiff  ever  did.  The  bailiff  was 
very  busy,  and  Arne,  knowing  this,  told  him  that 
there  was  no  necessity  of  his  going  with  him  or  send- 
ing any  guards,  for  he  would  go  alone  and  place 
himself  in  the  hands  of  the  officer  in  the  next  baili- 
wick ;  and  such  confidence  had  the  bailiff  in  Arne's 
uprightness  and  integrity  that  he  unhesitatingly  sent 
him  alone,  without  any  guard,  and  Arne  promptly  did 
as  he  had  agreed  ! 

The  sentence  of  the  lower  court  was  confirmed  by 
the  supreme  court,  without  any  recommendation  to 
pardon.  As  there  was  no  direct  evidence  in  the  case, 
Arne's  lawyer  had  advised  the  defendant  to  deny 
everything.  The  effect  of  a  confession  was  now  re- 
sorted to,  but  without  avail.  He  was  locked  up  in 
prison,  and  in  a  few  days  he  was  to  be  beheaded. 
The  young  and  enthusiastic  poet  Bjornson  was  at 
this  time  in  the  capital.  He  had  heard  of  the  case, 
aad  read  all  that  had  been  said  about  it  in  the  press, 


.,.. 


BIOGRAPHICAL    SKETCH   OF 


and  had  become  so  much  interested  in  it  that  he 
went  to  the  prison,  partly  to  see  this  remarkable 
criminal,  partly  out  of  curiosity  to  see  a  man  who 
stood  at  the  threshold  of  execution.  He  had  a  long 
talk  with  Arne,  and  was  much  affected  by  his  man- 
ner and  by  his  story  of  the  aggravating  circum- 
stances which  had  led  to  his  great  crime.  As  he  was 
about  to  leave  the  prison-cell,  Arne  arose,  stretched 
out  both  arms  to  Bjoruson,  and  besought  him  in 
tones  of  deepest  agony  :  "  Oh,  save  me  ! "  These 
words  rang  in  the  ears  of  the  poet,  and  he  determined 
to  move  heaven  and  earth,  if  this  were  possible,  to 
procure  a  pardon.  He  immediately  set  himself  to 
work,  and  wrote  for  the  press  what  he  still  considers 
the  most  masterly  article  of  his  life ;  indeed,  such  an 
article  as  but  few  others  than  Bjornson  could  write. 
It  set  the  whole  community,  the  whole  land,  in  com- 
motion. The  wives  and  daughters  of  the  judges  who 
had  pronounced  the  sentence  and  the  wives  of  the 
members  of  the  king's  cabinet  were  the  first  to  sign  a 
petition  to  the  government  for  his  pardon.  The  death- 
sentence  was  changed  by  the  king  to  imprisonment  for 
life.  For  twenty  long  years  Arne  had  to  remain  in 
prison,  and  not  until  the  summer  of  1880  was  he  re- 
leased. By  this  time  his  wife  had  died,  and  hi.s  family 
was  scattered.  He  found  himself  alone  and  friendless 
in  a  dreary  world.  After  twenty  years  of  confinement 
within  the  walls  of  a  prison,  liberty  itself  scarcely 
seemed  a  boon.  He  came  to  Wisconsin,  where  he 
bad  a  married  daughter.    Hearing  of  Bjornsou's  arri 


bjornstjerne  bjornson.  23 

val  in  Madison,  he  immediately  came  to  visit  him ; 
and  the  meeting  of  these  two  men  was  indeed  an 
affecting  scene.  "  You  are  my  second  father,  Bjoru- 
son,  and  I  cannot  tell  you  how  much  I  love  you," 
said  Arne  to  his  benefactor.  "  I  owe  my  life  to 
you."  Arne  is  poor,  and  feels  nowhere  at  home. 
America  seems  no  place  for  him.  The  poet,  with  his 
usual  kindness,  received  him  as  cordially  as  a  brother. 
He  offered  to  care  for  the  unfortunate  man  in  his  old 
age,  and  directed  me  to  advance  to  Arne  the  neces- 
sary funds  for  defraying  his  expenses  back  to  Nor- 
way, where  he  will  have  a  home  and  employment  on 
Bjornson's  estate. 

This  unvarnished  tale,  besides  furnishing  a  real 
Arne  by  the  side  of  the  hero  of  his  novel  "  Arne," 
gives  Bjornson  a  well-earned  place  among  the  philan- 
thropists of  the  world. 

Of  the  translation  it  is  needless  to  say  that  pains 
have  been  taken  to  make  it  as  faithful  and  readable 
as  possible. 

It  remains  only  to  be  added  that  in  the  prepara- 
tion of  this  American  edition  of  Bjornson's  stories  I 
have  availed  myself  of  the  experienced  and  valuable 
assistance  of  Auber  Forestier,  whose  kind  services 
are  hereby  gratefully  acknowledged. 

RASMUS  B.  ANDERSON. 

Madison,  Wis.,  April,  1881. 


SYNNOVE   SOLBAKKEN. 


CHAPTER  I. 

In  a  large  valley  it  often  happens  that  there 
is  a  high  spot,  open  on  every  side,  which  the 
sun  paints  with  his  pencils  from  early  dawn 
until  twilight  has  faded  away.  And  they  who 
live  nearer  the  foot  of  the  mountains,  and  sel- 
domer  get  the  sun,  call  this  spot  a  Solbakke.1 
The  person  of  whom  this  story  tells  lived  in 
such  a  spot  as  this,  and  from  it  the  gard  2  took 
its  name.  There  the  snow  was  last  to  cover 
the  ground  in  the  autumn,  and  there  it  first 
melted  in  the  spring. 

The  owners  of  the  gard  were  Haugians,8  and 
were  called  Readers,  because  they  read  the 
Bible  more  diligently  than  other  people.  The 
man's  name  was  Guttorm,  his  wife's  Karen. 
Their  first  child  was  a  son ;  but  death  took  him 
from  them,  and  for  three  years  they  never  went 

1  A  sunny  hill. 

2  A  Norwegian  farm. 

8  Followers  of  Hans  Nielsen  Hauge,  a  Norwegian  revivalist  in 
he  early  part  of  this  century. 


26  SYNNOVE   SOLBAKKEN. 

on  the  east  side  of  the  church.  At  the  end  of 
this  time  a  girl  was  giVen  to  them,  whom  they 
named  after  the  boy;  his  name  had  been  Syvert, 
and  she  was  christened  Synnov,  as  they  could 
not  find  anything  nearer.  But  the  mother 
called  her  Synnove,  because  she  had  a  habit,  as 
long  as  the  child'was  small,  of  adding  "  mine  " 
to  the  name,  and  so  this  seemed  to  come  easier. 
However  this  might  be,  as  the  girl  grew  up 
every  one  called  her  Synnove,  as  her  mother 
did,  and  most|people  said  that,  in  the  memory 
of  man,  there  had  not  been  in  the  parish  so 
fair  a  girl  as  Synnove  Solbakken.  She  was 
not  many  years  old  before  they  took  her  with 
them  to  church  every  Sunday  there  was  serv- 
ice, although  at  first  Synnove  knew  no  better 
than  to  think  the  priest  .was  standing  there 
scolding  at  Slave  Bent,  whom  she  saw  sitting 
right  down  below  the  pulpit.  Her  father,  how- 
ever, wanted  her  to  go  with4hem,  —  "  to  form 
the  habit,"  he  said  ;  and  her  mother  wished 
it,  too,  "because  no  one  knew  how  the  child 
would  be  taken  care  of  at  home  while  they  were 
gone."  If  there  chanced  to  be  a  lamb,  a  kid, 
or  some  little  pig  on  the  gard  that  did  not 
thrive,  or  a  cow  that  anything  was  the  matter 
with,  it  was  always  given  over  into  Synnove's 
possession;  and  the  mother  seemed  to  feel  sure 


SYNNOVE   SOLBAKKEN.  27 

that  from  that  moment  it  did  welL  The  father 
did  not  quite  believe  fhis  to  be  the  cause ; 
but  "  after  all  it  did  not  matter  which  of  them 
owned  the  beasts,  so  that  these  only  prospered." 
On  the  opposite  sid#*of  the  valley,  and  close 
to  the  foot  of  a  high  mountain,  there  was  a 
gard  named  Granliden,1  so  ©ailed  because  it 
lay  in  the  midst  of  a  great  spruce  forest,  the 
only  one  for  many  miles  around.  The  owner's 
great-grandfather  had  been  among  those  who 
lay  in  waiting  for  the  Russians»i^Holstein?  and 
from  that  expedition  he  had  brought  home  in 
his  knapsack  many  foreign  and  strange-looking 
seeds.  These  he  planted  round  about  his  house ; 
but  in  the  course  of  time  one  kind  after  another 
had  died  out ;  meanwhile  some  spruce  cones, 
which,  oddly  enough,  had  been  mixed  in  with 
the  rest,  had  produced*  a  dense  forest,  which 
now  shaded  the  house  on  every  side.  The  Hol- 
stein  soldier's  name  had  been  Thorbjorn,  after 
his  grandfather  ;  that  of  his  eldest  son  Seemund, 
after  his  father ;  and  thus  the  owners  of  the 
gard  had  alternately  been  named  Thorbjorn 
and  Sgemund,  from  time  out  of  mind.  But  it 
was  said  that  only  every  other  man  at  Granli- 
den had  good  luck,  and  it  was  not  he  who  t»ore 
the  name  Therbjorn.     The  present  owner,  Saa 

1  The  spruce  slope. 


28  SYNNOVE   SOLBAKKEN. 

mund,  had  thought  the  matter  over  from  vari- 
ous points  of  view,  when  his  fh'st  son  was  born, 
but  scarcely  liked  to  break  the  family  custom, 
and  so  called  him  Thorbjorn.  He  pondered 
much  upon  whether  the  boy  might  not  be  so 
brought  up  that  he  would  escape  the  fate  gossip 
had  laid  in  his  way.  He  was  not  altogether 
sure,  but  he  thought  he  detected  a  willful  dis- 
position in  the  boy.  "  That  shall  be  plucked 
out,"  said  he  to  the  mother  ;  and  when  Thor- 
bjorn was  only  three  years  old  the  father  would 
sometimes  sit  with  the  switch  in  his  hand,  and 
compel  him  to  carry  all  the  sticks  of  fire-wood 
back  to  their  place ;  to  pick  up  the  cup  he  had 
thrown  down  ;  to  stroke  the  cat  he  had  pinched. 
But  the  mother  preferred  to  leave  the  room 
when  the  father  was  in  this  mood. 

Ssemund  was  surprised  to  find  that  the  older 
the  boy  grew  the  more  there  was  to  correct  in 
him,  and  this  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  he  was 
dealt  with  more  and  more  strictly.  He  set  him 
early  to  reading,  and  took  him  out  in  the  fields 
with  him  in  order  to  have  an  eye  upon  him. 
The  mother  had  a  large  house  and  small  chil- 
dren ;  she  could  do  no  more  than  caress  and  ad- 
monish him  every  morning,  while  she  was  dress- 
ing him,  and  talk  gently  with  the  father  when 
Sabbaths    brought  them  together.     But  Thor- 


STATE  N 
Los  Ang  - 

synnove  solbakken.  29 

bjorn,  when  he  got  a  whipping  because  a-b 
spelled  a6,  and  not  ba,  and  because  he  was  not 
allowed  to  administer  the  rod  to  little  Ingrid, 
as  his  father  did  to  him,  thought,  "  It  is  strange 
that  I  must  have  such  a  hard  time,  while  all  my 
little  brothers  and  sisters  have  everything  so 
nice." 

As  he  passed  most  of  his  time  with  his  father, 
and  did  not  dare  say  much  to  him,  he  talked 
little,  but  thought  the  more.  Once,  though, 
while  they  were  hauling  in  the  wet  hay,  the 
words  escaped  him,  — 

"  Why  is  all  the  hay  dry  and  in  over  there 
at  Solbakken,  while  here  it  is  still  wet  ?  " 

"  Because  they  have  the  sun  oftener  than  we." 

This  was  the  first  time  he  had  noticed  that 
the  bright  sunshine  over  there,  which  he  so 
many  times  had  sat  and  looked  at  with  pleas- 
ure, was  something  that  he  was  shut  out  from. 
After  that  day  his  eye  fell  oftener  on  Solbak- 
ken than  before. 

"  Do  not  sit  gaping  there,"  said  his  father, 
and  gave  him  a  push.  "  Over  here  we  have  to 
drudge  all  we  can,  both  old  and  young,  if  we 
are  to  get  anything  housed." 

Ssemund  changed  his  servant-boy  when  Thor- 
bjorn  was  about  seven  or  eight.  Aslak  was  the 
name  of  the  new  servant,  and  he  had  already 


30  SYNNOVE    SOLBAKKEN. 

been  about  a  good  deal,  though  he  was  yet  a 
mere  boy.  The  evening  he  came  Thorbjorn 
had  gone  to  bed  ;  but  the  next  day,  as  he  sat 
reading,  the  door  was  pushed  open  with  a  kick, 
the  like  of  which  he  had  never  heard  before.  It 
was  Aslak,  who  came  rushing  in  with  a  large 
armful  of  wood,  and  flung  it  down  with  such 
force  that  the  sticks  flew  in  every  direction. 
Then  he  jumped  up  and  down  to  stamp  the 
snow  off  of  him,  and  with  every  jump  he  ex- 
claimed, — 

"  It  is  cold,  said  the  troll-bride,  as  she  sat  in 
ice  up  to  her  waist !  " 

The  father  was  not  in,  but  the  mother  swept 
together  the  snow  and  carried  it  out,  without  a 
word. 

"  What  are  you  staring  at  ?  "  said  Aslak  to 
Thorbjorn. 

"Not  at  anything,"  said  the  latter,  for  he 
was  frightened. 

"  Have  you  seen  the  rooster  you  have  in  the 
back  of  your  book  there  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  He  has  a  lot  of  hens  around  him  when  the 
book  is  shut ;  have  you  seen  that?" 

"  No." 

«  Well,  then,  look." 

The  boy  did  so. 


SYNNOVE   SOLBAKKEN.  31 

"  You  are  a  dunce !  "  said  Aslak  to  him. 
But  from  that  moment  no  one  had  the  power 
over  him  that  Aslak  had. 

"  You  do  not  know  anything,"  said  Aslak, 
one  day,  to  Thorbjorn,  who  was  trotting  after 
him,  as  usual,  to  watch  what  he  was  doing. 

"  Yes,  I  do.  I  know  as  far  as  the  fourth  part 
in  my  catechism." 

"  Pooh !  No,  you  have  not  even  heard  of 
the  troll  who  danced  with  the  girl  until  the  sun 
rose,  and  then  burst  like  a  calf  that  has  been 
eating  sour  milk  !  " 

In  all  his  days,  Thorbjorn  had  never  heard 
any  one  display  so  much  knowledge  at  once. 

"  Where  was  that?  "  he  asked. 

"Where?  Why,  it  was  —  yes,  it  was  over 
there  at  Solbakken  !  " 

Thorbjorn  stared. 

"  Did  you  ever  hear  of  the  man  who  sold 
himself  to  the  devil  for  a  pair  of  old  boots?  " 

Thorbjorn  forgot  to  answer,  so  astonished 
was  he. 

"  I  suppose  you  are  thinking  of  where  that 
was,  hey  ?  It  was  also  over  there  at  Solbak- 
ken, right  down  there  in  that  brook  which  you 
see.  Lord  help  us  !  Your  religious  knowledge 
does  not  amount  to  much,"  added  he.  "  I 
fancy  you  have  not  even  heard  of  Kari,  with 
the  wooden  petticoat." 


32  SYNNOVE   SOLBAKKEN. 

No,  Thorbjorn  had  not  heard  of  anything. 
And  while  Aslak  was  working  fast  he  was  tell- 
ing still  faster,  and  it  was  about  Kari  with  the 
wooden  petticoat,  about  the  mill  that  ground 
salt  at  the  bottom  of  the  sea,  about  the  devil 
with  the  wooden  shoes,  about  the  troll  that  got 
his  beard  caught  in  the  branch  of  a  tree,  about 
the  seven  green  maidens  who  pulled  the  hair  out 
of  Peter  Hunter's  legs  while  he  slept  and  could 
not  possibly  awaken ;  and  it  all  took  place  over 
there  at  Solbakken. 

"  What,  in  the  name  of  Heaven,  ails  the 
boy  ?  "  said  the  mother,  the  next  day.  "  He 
has  been  on  his  knees  on  the  bench  yonder, 
looking  over  at  Solbakken,  ever  since  it  was 
light." 

"  Yes,  he  keeps  very  busy  to-day,"  said  the 
father,  who  lay  taking  his  rest  the  long  Sunday. 

"  Oh,  folks  say  that  he  has  captured  Synnove 
Solbakken,"  Aslak  was  saying;  "but  folks  say 
so  many  strange  things,"  added  he. 

Thorbjorn  did  not  exactly  understand  him, 
but  nevertheless  his  whole  face  grew  fiery  red. 
When  Aslak  commented  on  this,  he  crept  down 
from  the  bench,  took  his  catechism,  and  seated 
himself  to  read. 

"  Yes,  you  may  as  well  console  yourself  with 
the  word  of  God,"  said  Aslak  ;  "you  will  never 
get  her,  any  way." 


SYNNOVE   SOLBAKKEN.  33 

When  the  week  was  so  far  advanced  that  he 
thought  they  had  forgotten  this,  he  asked  his 
mother,  quite  softly,  for  he  felt  bashful  about 
it,— 

"  Say,  who  is  Synnove  Solbakken  ?  " 

"  She  is  a  little  girl  who  will  one  day  own 
Solbakken." 

"  Has  she,  then,  not  a  wooden  petticoat?  " 

The  mother  looked  at  him  in  surprise.  "  What 
is  that  you  say  ?  "  said  she. 

He  felt  that  he  must  have  said  something 
stupid,  and  was  silent. 

"  A  prettier  child  has  never  been  seen  than 
she  is,"  added  the  mother,  "  and  that  is  her  re- 
ward from  the  Lord  because  sbe  is  always  kind 
and  good  and  is  an  industrious  reader." 

Now  he  knew  that,  too. 

One  day,  when  Ssemund  had  been  out  in  the 
field  with  Aslak,  he  said  in  the  evening  to 
Thorbjorn,  — 

"  You  must  not  go  with  Ashik  any  more." 

But  Thorbjorn  gave  little  heed  to  this.  So 
after  a  while  the  order  came  :  — 

"  If  you  are  found  with  him  any  more,  it  will 
not  be  well  for  you  !  " 

Then  Thorbjorn  stole  after  Aslak,  when  the 
father  did  not  see  him.  Saemund  surprised 
them,  though,  one  day,  when  they  sat  talking 


t4  SYNNOVE   SOLCAKKEN. 

together;  tlien  Thorbjorn  got  a  thrashing,  and 
was  told  to  go  in.  But  afterward  Thorbjorn 
watched  his  chance  to  be  with  Aslak  when  his 
father  was  not  at  home- 
One  Sunday,  while  the  father  was  at  church, 
Thorbjorn  got  his  hands  into  mischief  at  home. 
Aslak  and  he  were  throwing  snow-balls  at  each 
other. 

"  Oh,  stop  !  you  are  choking  me !  "  begged 
Thorbjorn.  "Let  us  throw  together  at  some- 
thing else." 

Aslak  was  ready  at  once,  and  so  they  threw 
first  at  the  slender  spruce  over  by  the  store- 
house, then  at  the  store-house  door,  and  finally 
at  the  store-house  window. 

"  Not  at  the  window  itself,"  said  Aslak,  "  but 
at  the  frame  around  it."  Meanwhile,  Thor- 
bjorn hit  the  window-pane,  and  turned  pale. 

"  Pooh,  who  will  know  it  ?    Try  it  again." 

He  did  so,  but  hit  another. 

"  Now  I  will  not  throw  any  more,"  said  he. 

At  that  moment  his  eldest  sister,  little  In- 
grid,  came  out. 

"  Throw  at  her,  Thorbjorn  !  " 

Thorbjorn  did  so  immediately.  The  girl 
cried,  and  the  mother  came  out.  She  bade  him 
stop. 

"  Throw,  throw  !  "  whispered  Aslak. 


SYNNOVE   SOLBAKKEN.  35 

Thorbjorn  was  hot  and  excited  ;  be  did  so. 

"  Why,  you  must  be  losing  your  senses  ! " 
Baid  the  mother,  and  rushed  toward  him,  —  he 
ran  before,  she  after,  all  round  the  grounds. 
Aslak  laughed  and  the  mother  scolded.  She 
caught  Thorbjorn  at  last  in  a  snow-drift,  and 
began  to  give  him  a  good  drubbing. 

"  I  will  strike  back  again,  I  will !  "  said  he. 
"  That  is  the  way  they  do  here." 

The  mother  ceased  in  surprise,  and  looked  at 
him. 

"That  some  one  else  has  taught  you,"  she 
then  said,  and  taking  him  silently  by  the  hand, 
led  him  in.  She  spoke  not  another  word  to 
him,  but  kindly  cared  for  his  little  brothers  and 
sisters,  and  told  them  their  father  would  now 
soon  come  home  from  church.  Then  it  began 
to  grow  pretty  hot  in  the  room.  Aslak  asked 
leave  to  visit  a  relative  ;  he  got  it  at  once;  but 
Thorbjorn  felt  much  smaller  when  Aslak  was 
gone.  He  had  a  terrible  pain  in  his  stomach, 
and  his  hands  were  so  clammy  that  they  made 
his  book  moist  when  he  took  hold  of  it.  If 
only  his  mother  would  not  say  anything  to  his 
father,  when  he  came  home;  but  Thorbjorn 
could  not  bring  himself  to  ask  it.  Everything 
his  eye  fell  on  kept  changing  looks,  and  the 
clock    said,    Spanking,    spanking,  —  spanking 


36  SYNNOVE   SOLBAKKEN. 

spanking.  He  had  to  get  up  to  the  window 
and  look  over  at  Solbakken.  It  alone,  all  cov- 
ered with  snow,  lay  quiet  and  sparkling  in  the 
sunshine,  just  as  usual ;  the  house  stood  and 
laughed  out  of  all  the  window-panes,  and  there 
was  surely  not  one  of  them  broken  ;  the  smoke 
rose  with  such  tremendous  joy  from  the  chim- 
ney that  he  judged  that  over  there,  too,  they 
were  getting  dinner  for  the  church  people.  No 
doubt  Synnove  was  watching  for  her  father, 
and  was  not  to  have  a  whipping  when  he  got 
home.  Thorbjorn  did  not  know  what  to  do 
with  himself,  and  all  at  once  became  so  affec- 
tionate to  his  sisters  that  there  was  no  end  to 
it.  To  Ingrid  he  was  so  good  that  he  gave  her 
a  bright  button  he  had  received  from  Aslak. 
She  put  her  arms  about  his  neck,  and  he  put 
his  arms  about  hers,  saying,  — 

"  Dear  little  Ingrid  mine,  are  you  angry  with 
me  ?  " 

"No,  little  Thorbjorn  !  You  may  throw  as 
much  snow  at  me  as  you  like." 

But  there  was  some  one  stamping  the  snow 
cff  in  the  hall.  Yes,  sure  enough,  it  was  the 
father.  He  appeared  to  be  in  a  good  humor, 
and  that  made  the  mutter  still  worse. 

"  Well?  "  said  he,  looking  around,  —  and  it 
was  astonishing  that  the  clock  did  not  tumble 


SYNNOVE   SOLBAKKEN.  37 

down.  The  mother  put  the  dinner  on  the  ta- 
ble. 

"  How  have  things  been  going  here  ?  "  asked 
the  father,  as  he  seated  himself  and  took  up  his 
spoon. 

Thorbjorn  looked  at  his  mother  until  the 
tears  came  into  his  eyes. 

"  Oh  — well,"  said  she,  with  incredible  slow- 
ness ;  and  she  meant  to  say  more,  —  that  he 
plainly  saw.  "  I  gave  Aslak  permission  to  go 
out,"  said  she. 

"  She  did  not  do  it  this  time,"  thought  Thor- 
bjorn. He  began  to  play  with  Ingrid,  as  though 
he  were  thinking  of  nothing  else  in  the  world. 
The  father  had  never  taken  so  long  to  eat  his 
dinner,  and  Thorbjorn  set  to  work,  at  last,  to 
count  every  bite ;  but  when  he  came  to  the 
fourth  he  wanted  to  see  how  many  he  could 
count  between  the  fourth  and  the  fifth,  and 
then  he  lost  track  of  it.  Finally,  the  father  rose 
and  went  out.  The  window-panes  !  the  window- 
panes  !  kept  ringing  in  his  ears,  and  he  looked 
round  to  see  whether  those  in  the  room  were 
whole.  Yes,  they  were  all  whole.  But  now 
bis  mother  also  went  out.  Thorbjorn  took  lit- 
tle Ingrid  in  his  lap,  and  said,  so  gently  that 
she  stared  at  him  in  amazement,  — 

"  Come,  let  us  two  play  the  gold  princess 
in  the  meadow." 


38  SYNNOVE   SOLBAKKEN. 

That  she  would  like  to  do.     And  so  he  sang 
while  his  legs  trembled  under  him :  - 

"Little  blossom, 
Meadow  blossom, 
Hearken  now  to  me  ! 
If  you  will  be  my  sweetheart  so  true, 
A  velvet  cloak  I  '11  give  to  you, 
Adorned  with  gold 
And  pearls  untold. 
Ditteli,  dutteli,  deadow,  — 
The  sun  now  shines  on  the  meadow  ! " 

Then  she  answered,  — 

"Gold  princess, 
Jewel  princess, 
Hearken  now  to  me  ! 
I  '11  never  be  your  sweetheart  so  true, 
I  '11  have  no  velvet  cloak  from  you, 
Adorned  with  gold 
And  pearls  untold. 
Ditteli,  dutteli,  deadow,  — 
The  sun  now  shines  on  the  meadow!  "  * 

But  just  as  this  game  was  well  under  way, 
his  father  came  in,  and  fixed  knowing  eyes  on 
him.  Thorbjorn  drew  Ingrid  closer  up  in  his 
lap,  and  did  not  fall  from  his  chair. 

The  father  turned  away,  said  nothing.  Half 
an  hour  passed ;  he  had  not  yet  said  anything, 
and  Thorbjorn  was  almost  about  to  be  happy, 
Vt  did  not  dare.  He  knew  not  what  to  think 
when  the  father  himself  helped  to  undress  him 

1  Aubcr  Eorestier's  translation. 


SYNNOVE   SOLBAKKEN.  39 

he  began  gradually  to  tremble  again.  Then  his 
father  patted  him  on  the  head  and  stroked  his 
cheek  ;  this  he  had  not  done  as  far  back  as  the 
boy  could  remember,  and  therefore  Thorbjorn 
grew  so  warm  about  his  heart  and  over  his 
whole  body  that  fear  melted  off  him  like  ice 
beneath  a  sunbeam.  He  did  not  know  how 
he  got  into  bed,  and  as  he  could  take  neither 
to  singing  nor  shouting,  he  folded  his  hands, 
said  Our  Father  six  times  forwards  and  back- 
wards, quite  softly,  and  felt,  as  he  fell  asleep, 
that  there  was  no  one  on  God's  green  earth  he 
loved  so  dearly  as  his  father. 

The  next  day  he  awakened  in  a  terrible 
fright,  because  he  could  not  scream ;  for  he  was 
now  to  have  a  thrashing,  after  all.  "When  he 
opened  his  eyes,  he  became  aware,  to  his  great 
relief,  that  he  had  only  dreamed  it;  but  soon 
also  became  aware  that  some  one  else  was  just 
about  to  have  a  thrashing,  and  that  was  Aslak. 
Saemund  was  pacing  the  floor,  and  Thorbjorn 
well  knew  that  step.  The  rather  short  but 
square-built  man  looked  now  and  then  from 
under  his  bushy  brows  in  such  a  way  at  Aslak 
that  the  latter  felt  plainly  what  was  in  the 
wind  ;  Aslak  was  perched  on  the  top  of  a  great 
barrel,  from  the  side  of  which  his  legs  now 
dangled,  now  were   drawn    up.     As   usual,  he 


40  SYNNOVE   SOLBAKKEN. 

had  his  hands  in  his  pockets  and  his  cap  drawu 
down  lightly  on  his  head,  so  that  the  matted 
locks  of  thick  black  hair  protruded  from  under 
the  fore-piece.  The  little  crooked  mouth  was 
more  crooked  than  ever ;  he  held  his  whole 
head  slightly  aslant,  and  looked  sideways  at 
Sasmund  from  beneath  his  half-closed  eyelids. 

"  Yes,  that  boy  of  yours  is  bad  enough," 
said  he  ;  "  but,  worse  still,  your  horse  is  troll- 
scared." 

Ssemund  paused.  "  You  are  a  fool !  "  said 
he,  so  that  it  rang  through  the  room,  and  As- 
lak  drew  his  eyelids  more  closely  than  ever 
together. 

Ssemund  strode  on  qgain ;  Aslak  sat  still  a 
while. 

"  I  tell  you  he  is  troll-scared,"  repeated  he, 
and  stole  a  glance  after  him  to  see  what  effect 
that  had. 

*'  No  ;  but  he  is  woods-scared,  —  that  is  what 
he  is,"  said  Ssemund,  moving  on.  "  You  felled  a 
tree  over  him  in  the  field,  you  careless  slouch, 
and  that  is  why  no  one  can  get  him  to  pass 
there  quietly  any  more." 

Aslak  listened  to  this  a  while. 

"  Well,  believe  so,  if  you  choose.  It  is  no 
disgrace  to  believe  a  thing.  But  I  doubt  if 
that  will  set  your  horse  right  again,"  he  added, 


SYNNOVE   SOLBAKKEN.  41 

at  the  same  time  drawing  himself  farther  back 
on  the  barrel,  and  shading  his  face  with  one 
hand.  Ssemund  came  right  over  to  him,  and 
said  in  alow,  but  rather  dismal  tone, — 

"You  are  a  wicked " 

"  Saemund  !  "  was  heard  from  the  hearth.  It 
was  Ingebjorg,  his  wife,  who  sat  there  hushing 
him  as  she  had  hushed  the  youngest  child,  who 
was  frightened,  and  had  wanted  to  scream. 
The  child  had  been  quieted  before,  and  now 
Saemund,  too,  was  silent ;  but  he  stuck  his  fist, 
which  was  a  very  small  one  for  such  a  square- 
built  man,  right  up  under  Aslak's  nose,  and 
held  it  there  a  while,  as  he  bent  forward  and 
fairly  scorched  the  boy's  face  with  his  eyes. 
Then  he  walked  on  as  before,  bestowing  on  him 
every  now  and  then  a  hasty  glance.  Aslak  was 
very  pale,  but  he  laughed  over  at  Thorbjorn 
with  one  half  of  his  face,  while  he  kept  the 
half  turned  toward  Saemund  very  straight. 

"  Lord  grant  us  good  patience  !  "  he  ex- 
claimed, after  a  little  while ;  but  at  the  same 
time  he  drew  up  his  elbow,  as  though  to  ward 
off  a  blow.  Saemund  stopped  suddenly,  and 
chrieked  at  the  top  of  his  voice,  as  he  brought 
his  foot  down  on  the  floor,  so  that  Aslak  was 
completely  silenced,  — 

1  Do  not  you  dare  name  Him  1 " 


42  SYNNOVE   SOLBAKKEN. 

Ingebjorg  arose  with  the  infant,  and  took 
Ssemund  gently  by  the  arm.  He  did  not  look 
at  her,  but  still  he  let  his  arm  drop.  She  went 
to  her  seat ;  he  walked  to  and  fro  once  more ; 
but  neither  said  anything.  As  this  lasted  a 
while,  Aslak  had  to  break  the  silence  again  :  — 

"  Aye,  He  has  a  great  deal  to  do  at  Gran- 
liden,  —  that  He  has  !  " 

"  Ssemund  !  Ssemund !  "  whispered  Ingebjorg, 
but  before  the  words  reached  him  Ssemund  had 
already  rushed  at  Aslak,  who  thrust  out  his 
foot.  It  was  pushed  down,  the  fellow  seized 
by  it  and  his  jacket  collar,  lifted  up,  and  then 
set  against  the  closed  door  with  such  violence 
that  the  panel  gave  way,  and  he  went  through 
it  head  foremost.  The  wife,  Thorbjorn,  and  all 
the  children  screamed  and  begged  for  him,  and 
the  whole  house  was  in  one  wail.  But  Ssemund 
darted  out  after  him,  not  remembering  to  open 
the  door  properly,  but  kicking  the  remainder 
Aside,  seized  him  again,  carried  him  through 
the  passage  out  into  the  yard,  raised  him  high 
in  the  air,  and  flung  him  down  again  with  all 
his  might.  And  when  Ssemund  perceived  that 
there  was  too  much  snow  for  him  to  be  hurt 
badly  enough,  he  planted  his  knee  on  Aslak's 
breast  and  beat  him  right  in  his  face,  lifted 
him  the  third  time,  bore  him  to  a  place  that 


SYNNOVE   SOLBAKKEN.  43 

was  more  free  from  snow,  like  a  wolf  that  is 
dragging  after  him  a  dog  he  has  been  tearing 
to  pieces,  let  him  fall  again,  and  this  time  more 
savagely  than  before,  then  sprang  on  him  with 
his  knees ;  and  no  one  knows  how  it  might 
have  ended  had  not  Ingebjorg  rushed  between 
with  the  infant  in  her  arms. 

"  Do  not  bring  ruin  upon  us  ! "  she  shrieked. 

A  while  later  Ingebjorg  sat  in  the  family 
room  ;  Thorbjorn  was  dressing;  the  father  "was 
pacing  the  floor  once  more,  and  only  paused 
now  and  then  to  drink  a  little  water,  but  his 
hand  shook  so  that  the  water  flew  over  his  head 
and  splashed  on  the  floor.  Aslak  did  not  come 
in,  and  presently  Ingebjorg  made  a  movement 
to  go  out.  "  Stay  in,"  said  Ssemund,  as  though 
it  were  not  to  her  he  was  speaking  ;  and  she 
stayed  in.  But  a  little  later  he  went  out  him- 
self. He  did  not  come  in  again.  Thorbjorn 
took  his  book  and  read  incessantly,  without 
looking  up,  although  he  did  not  understand  a 
single  sentence. 

A  little  later  in  the  forenoon  the  house  was 
in  the  old  order,  although  every  one  had  a  feel- 
ing as  though  strangers  had  been  visiting  them. 
Thorbjorn  ventured  to  go  out,  and  the  first  per- 
son he  met  outside  the  door  was  Aslak,  who  had 
packed  all  his  things  on  a  sled;  but  the  sled 


3t4  SYNNOVE   SOLBAKKEN. 

was  Thorbjorn's.  Thorbjorn  stared  at  him ; 
for  he  looked  ugly.  The  blood  had  dried  on 
his  face,  and  was  smeared  all  over  ;  he  coughed 
and  clutched  often  at  his  breast.  He  looked  for 
a  moment  silently  at  Thorbjorn,  and  then  he 
burst  out  violently,  — 

w  I  do  not  like  your  eyes,  boy  !  " 

With  this  he  got  astride  of  the  sled,  seated 
himself,  and  started  down  the  hill. 

"  You  can  get  your  sled  back  where  you  can 
find  it ! "  said  he,  and  laughed,  as  he  turned  once 
more  and  stuck  out  his  tongue  at  him.  Thus 
departed  Aslak. 

But  during  the  week  that  followed  the  lens- 
mand J  made  his  appearance  at  the  house ;  the 
father  was  sometimes  absent ;  the  mother  wept, 
and  she  also  was  away  several  times. 

"  What  is  it,  mother  ?  " 

"  Oh,  Aslak  is  the  cause  of  it  all !  " 

One  day  they  caught  little  Ingrid,  as  she  sat 
and  sang :  — 

"0  blessed  world,  I  am  weary 

Now  of  thy  doings  so  dreary! 
Once  the  girl  puts  foot  in  sight, 

Reason  leaves  the  boy  outright ; 
Wat'ry  food  the  housewife  makes, 

Ease  her  lazy  husband  takes ; 
Puss  beyond  the  rest  is  keen  and  wily, 

For  cream  she  's  stealing  so  slyly."  a 

1  Bailiff. 

2  Aubcr  Fo-estier's  translation. 


SYNNOVE   SOLBAKKEN.  45 

There  was  of  course  a  query  as  to  whom  she 
could  have  learned  this  snatch  of  a  song  from. 
As  was  expected,  it  proved  to  be  from  Thor- 
bjorn.  He  became  much  alarmed,  and  said  he 
had  learned  it  from  Aslak.  He  was  then  made 
to  understand  that  if  he  sang  any  more  such 
verses  himself,  or  taught  them  to  his  sister,  he 
would  get  a  whipping.  Shortly  after  this  lit- 
tle Ingrid  happened  to  swear.  Thorbjorn  was 
again  called  up,  and  Saemund  thought  he  might 
as  well  give  him  a  taste  of  the  rod  now ;  but  he 
cried  and  made  such  fair  promises  for  himself 
that  he  was  allowed  to  escape  this  time. 

The  next  Sunday  there  was  service,  his  father 
said  to  him,  "  You  will  not  have  any  chance  to 
get  into  mischief  at  home  to-day;  you  are  going 
with  me  to  church." 


CHAPTER  II. 

The  church  stands,  in  the  peasant's  fancy,  on 
a  lofty  eminence,  apart  by  itself,  consecrated  to 
peace,  with  the  solemnity  of  the  grave  about  it, 
and  the  cheerfulness  of  the  mass  within.  It  is 
the  sole  house  in  the  valley  upon  which  he  has 
bestowed  any  ornamentation,  a'nd  its  spire,  there- 
fore, actually  reaches  up  a  little  farther  than  it 
appears  to  reach.  Its  bells  greet  him  on  his 
way  thither,  of  a  bright;  Sunday  morning,  and 
he  always  uncovei>-his  head  to  them,  as  though 
he  would  return  with  thanks  their  greeting! 
There  is  a  covenant  between  him  and  them 
which  no  one  can  fully  estimate.  Early  in  life 
he  doubtless  stood  by  the  open  door  and  heark- 
ened to  them,  while  the  church  people  moved 
past  in  silent  procession  down  on  the  road  ;  his 
father  was  getting  ready,  but  he  himself  was 
too  small  to  go.  He  combined  then  many 
ideas  with  those  heavy,  sonorous  tones  which 
reigned  supreme  among  the  mountains  for  an 
hour  or  two,  reechoing  from  one  to  the  other ; 
but  one  was  inseparably  connected  therewith : 


SYXXOVE    SOLBAKKEN.  -47 

clean,  new  clothes,  gay-clad  women,  and  well- 
groomed  horses,  with  bright  harnesses. 

And  when  these  bells  ring  thus  one  Sunday 
over  his  own  happiness;  when  in  brand-new, 
but  too  large,  clothes  he  walks  with  dignified 
assurance  by  his  father's  side,  on  his  way  to 
church  for  the  first  time,  aye,  then  there  is  ex- 
ultation in  them.  Then,  surely,  they  can  fling 
open  all  the  doors  to  what  he  is  going  to  see. 
And  on  the  way  home,  when  they  still  keep  up 
their  clanging  over  his  head,  rocking  the  sing- 
ing, the  mass,  the  words  of  the  sermon,  in  their 
reverberations,  there  is  chased  back  and  forth 
what  engrossed  the  eye  during  the  service,  — 
the  altar-piece,  the  costumes,  the  people ;  then, 
once  for  all,  they  arch  over  the  previously  gath- 
ered impressions,  and  consecrate  the  smaller 
church  which  henceforth  he  bears  within  him. 

When  a  little  older,  he  has  to  tend  the  herds 
on  the  mountains,  but  of  a  fine,  dewy  Sunday 
morning,  as  he  sits  on  the  stone,  with  the  cattle 
below  him,  and  listens  to  the  church-bells  rising 
above  the  tinkle  of  their  bells,  he  grows  melan- 
choly. For  there  rings  through  them  some- 
thing bright,  cheerful,  alluring,  from  down  be- 
low :  thoughts  of  acquaintances  at  church  ;  of 
the  joy  when  one  is  there,  and  the  still  greater 
joy,  when  one  has  been  there,  of  the  good  dinner 


48  SYNNOVE   SOLBAKKEN. 

at  home;  of  father,  mother,  brothers,  and  sis- 
ters ;  of  the  merriment  on  the  green  in  the  glad 
Sunday  evening,  —  and  the  little  heart  rebels 
within  his  breast.  But  it  always  ends  with  the 
thought  that  those  were  the  church-bells  that 
were  ringing.  He  reflects  a  little,  and  finds 
stored  away  in  his  mind  a  fragment  of  some 
hymn  he  has  learned ;  this  he  sings,  hands 
folded,  and  eyes  peering  far  down  into  the 
valley  below,  repeats  a  little  prayer,  besides, 
springs  up,  ieels  happy,  and  blows  such  a  blast 
on  his  loor  that  it  resounds  through  the  mount- 
ains. 

Here  in  the  little  mountain  valley  the  church 
has  its  special  language  for  each  age,  its  peculiar 
look  to  each  eye;  much  may  have  been  built  up 
between  the  individual  and  it,  but  never  any- 
thing over  it.  It  stands  full-grown  and  ready, 
in  the  eyes  of  the  candidate  for  confirmation, 
with  finger  pointing  upward,  half  threatening, 
half  inviting,  for  the  youth  whose  choice  is 
made ;  broad-shouldered  and  strong  over  the 
sorrows  of  manhood  ;  with  plenty  of  room  and 
full  of  tenderness  for  weary  old  age.  During 
divine  service,  young  children  are  brought  in 
and  baptized,  and  it  is  well  known  that  during 
this  act  the  devotion  is  greatest. 

Therefore,  it  is  impossible  to  describe  Norse 


STNNOVE   SOLBAKKEN.  49 

peasants,  corrupted  or  uncorrupted,  without 
coming  into  contact  at  one  point  or  other  with 
the  church.  There  will  seem  to  be  a  dull  uni- 
formity in  this  ;  but  it  is,  perhaps,  not  of  the 
worst  sort.  Let  this  be  said  once  for  all,  and 
not  especially  on  account  of  the  church  visit 
which  here  follows. 

Thorbjorn  rejoiced  at  the  thought  of  the 
walk  to  church  and  the  sights  he  was  to  see ; 
his  eyes  were  dazzled  with  the  manifold  colors 
without  the  church ;  he  felt  the  weight  of  the 
stillness  which  hung  over  everybody  and  every- 
thing within  before  the  mass  began  ;  and  al- 
though he  did  not  remember  to  bow  his  head 
himself  when  the  prayer  was  read,  it  seemed  as 
though  it  were  bowed  by  the  sight  of  many  hun- 
dred bowed  heads.  The  singing  began,  and  all 
sang  at  once  around  him,  so  that  it  almost  ap- 
palled him.  So  absorbed  did  he  sit  there  that 
he  started  up  as  from  a  dream  when  their  pew 
door  was  softly  opened  for  some  one  who  came 
in.  After  the  singing  was  over  the  father  took 
this  new-comer  by  the  hand,  and  asked,  — 

«  Is  all  well  at  Solbakken  ?  " 

Thorbjorn  raised  his  eyes  ;  but  whatever  he 
saw,  or  did  not  see,  there  was  little  connection 
to  be  traced  between  this  man  and  any  kind  of 
witchcraft.     He  was  a  gentle-looking,  fair-eum 

4 


50  SYNNOVE   SOLBAKKEN. 

plexioned  man,  with  large  blue  eyes,  a  high 
brow,  and  he  looked  tall  in  his  seat ;  he  smiled 
when  he  was  spoken  to,  and  said  "  yes "  to 
every  remark  Saemund  made,  but  was,  on  the 
whole,  a  man  of  few  words. 

"  If  you  look  over  there  you  will  see  Syn- 
nove,"  said  the  father,  as  he  stooped  down  to 
Thorbjorn,  took  him  on  his  knee,  and  pointed 
over  to  the  pew  opposite,  on  the  women's  side. 
There  was  a  little  girl  kneeling  on  the  bench 
and  looking  over  the  railing.  She  was  still 
fairer  than  the  man,  —  so  fair  that  he  had 
never  seen  her  equal.  She  had  a  red  streamer 
to  her  cap,  light  yellow  hair  beneath  this,  and 
now  smiled  at  him,  so  that  for  a  long  time  he 
could  not  see  anything  but  her  white  teeth. 
She  held  a  shining  hymn-book  in  one  hand,  and 
a  folded  orange-colored  silk  handkerchief  in  the 
other,  and  was  now  amusing  herself  by  strik- 
ing the  handkerchief  on  the  hymn-book.  The 
more  he  stared,  the  more  she  smiled  ;  and  now 
he  chose  also  to  kneel  on  the  bench,  just  as 
she  was  doing.  Then  she  nodded.  He  looked 
gravely  at  her  a  moment,  then  he  nodded.  She 
smiled  and  nodded  once  more  ;  he  nodded  again, 
and  once  more,  and  still  once  more.  She  smiled, 
but  did  not  nod  any  more,  for  a  little  while, 
until  he  had  quite  forgotten  it ;  then  she  nod- 
ded. 


SYNNOVE   SOLBAKKEN.  51 

"  I  want  to  see,  too !  "  he  heard  behind  him, 
and  at  the  same  moment  felt  some  one  pull  him 
by  the  legs  to  the  floor,  so  that  he  came  near 
falling  ;  it  was  a  thick-set  little  fellow,  who  now 
scrambled  valiantly  up  into  Thorbjorn's  place. 
He,  too,  had  light,  but  bristling  hair,  and  a 
snub-nose.  Aslak  had  probably  taught  Thor- 
bjorn how  the  bad  boys  he  met  at  church  and 
school  should  be  dealt  with.  Thorbjorn  there- 
fore pinched  the  boy  in  return  so  hard  that  he 
wanted  to  scream,  but  did  not,  and  crawled  in- 
stead very  quickly  down  from  the  bench,  and 
seized  Thorbjorn  by  both  ears.  The  latter 
made  a  grab  at  his  hair,  and  pulled  him  down 
under  himself  ;  still  the  boy  did  not  scream,  but 
bit  Thorbjorn  in  the  thigh.  Thorbjorn  drew  it 
back,  and  dashed  the  boy's  face  right  against 
the  floor.  Then  he  was  himself  seized  by  the 
jacket-collar,  and  lifted  up  as  though  he  were  a 
bag  full  of  straw  ;  it  was  his  father,  who  took 
Thorbjorn  on  his  lap. 

"  If  it  were  not  in  church,  you  would  get 
a  thrashing ! "  he  whispered  in  his  ear,  and 
squeezed  his  hand  so  that  it  hurt  clear  down  in 
his  foot.  He  remembered  Synnove,  and  looked 
over  at  her  ;  she  was  still  there  on  her  knees, 
but  was  staring  before  her  with  such  a  vacant 
look  that  he  began  to  realize  what  he  had  done, 


52  SYNNOVE   SOLBAKKEN. 

and  that  it  must  be  something  very  wrong.  As 
soon  as  she  noticed  that  he  was  looking  at  her 
she  crept  down  from  the  bench,  and  was  no 
more  to  be  seen. 

The  chorister  came  forward,  and  then  the 
priest ;  he  listened  to  and  watched  them  closely. 
Again  the  chorister  came  forward,  and  again  the 
priest ;  but  still  he  sat  on  his  father's  knee,  and 
thought,  "  Will  she  not  soon  look  up  again  ?  " 
The  little  fellow  who  had  dragged  him  down 
from  the  bench  sat  on  a  foot-stool,  farther  up 
in  the  pew,  and  every  time  he  wanted  to  rise 
he  got  a  thrust  in  the  back  from  an  old  per- 
son, who  sat  and  nodded,  but  awakened  regu- 
larly every  time  the  child  made  a  move  to  rise. 
"  Will  she  not  soon  look  up  again  ?  "  thought 
Thorbjorn  ;  and  every  red  ribbon  he  saw  stir- 
ring round  about  reminded  him  of  the  one  she 
wore,  and  every  flashy  painting  in  the  old 
church  was  either  just  as  large  as,  or  a  little 
smaller  than,  she.  Yes,  now  she  stretched  up 
her  head;  but  as  soon  as  she  saw  him  she 
gravely  drew  it  down  again.  Once  more  the 
chorister  came  forward,  and  once  more  the 
priest ;  the  bell  was  rung,  and  every  one  arose. 
The  father  talked  again  in  a  low  tone  to  the 
fair-complexioned  man  ;  they  went  together 
over  to  the  pew  where  the  women   were,  who 


SYNNOVE   SOLBAKKEN.  53 

had  already  arisen.  The  first  person  who  came 
out  from  there  was  a  fair-complexioned  woman, 
who  smiled  as  the  man  did,  but  more  faintly  ; 
she  was  rather  small  and  pale,  and  held  Syn- 
nove by  the  hand.  Thorbjorn  went  right  over 
to  the  latter  ;  but  she  went  quickly  away  from 
him,  round  her  mother's  dress. 

"  Let  me  alone  !  "  said  she. 

"  This  little  boy  has  never  been  at  church 
before,"  said  the  fair  woman,  and  laid  her  hand 
on  him. 

"  No,  and  that  is  the  reason  why  he  got  to 
fighting  the  first  time,"  said  Saemund. 

Thorbjorn  looked  bashfully  up  at  her,  and 
then  at  Synnove,  who  seemed  to  him  graver  than 
ever.  They  all  went  out,  —  the  older  ones  in 
conversation,  but  Thorbjorn  following  Synnove, 
who  drew  closer  to  her  mother  whenever  he  ap- 
proached her.  The  other  boy  he  saw  no  more. 
Outside  of  the  church  they  paused,  and  began 
a  longer  conversation.  Thorbjorn  several  times 
heard  Aslak  named,  and  as  he  feared  they  might 
talk  a  little  about  him  also,  at  the  same  time,  he 
vetreated  a  few  steps. 

"This  is  not  for  you  to  hear!  "said  Synnove's 
mother  to  her.  "Go  away  a  little,  my  dear;  go 
away,  I  say." 

Synnove  drew  lingeringly  back.     Thorbjorn 


54  SYNNOVE   SOLBAKKEN. 

then  went  nearer  her,  and  looked  at  her,  and 
she  looked  at  him  ;  and  thus  they  stood  for  a 
long  while,  just  looking  at  each  other.  Finally 
she  said,  — 

"  Fy  !  " 

"  Why  do  you  say  fy  ?  "  asked  he. 

"  Fy  !  "  said  she  once  more.  "  Fy  !  For 
shame  !  "  she  added. 

"  Why,  what  have  I  done  ?  " 

"You  have  been  fighting  in  church,  and  while 
the  priest  stood  there  saying  mass.     Fy  !  " 

"  Yes,  but  that  was  a  long  time  ago." 

This  made  an  impression  on  her,  and  she 
said  presently,  — 

"  Are  you  the  boy  whose  name  is  Thorbjorn 
Granliden  ?  " 

"  Yes  ;  and  is  it  you  they  call  Synnove  Sol- 
bakken  ?  " 

"  Yes.  I  have  always  heard  that  you  were 
such  a  good  boy." 

"  No,  that  is  not  true ;  for  I  am  the  worst 
one  of  all  of  us  at  home,"  said  Thorbjorn. 

"Well,  I  have  never  heard"  —  said  Synnove, 
and  clasped  her  small  hands.  "  Mother,  mother ! 
he  says "  — 

"  Hush  !  Be  quiet,  and  go  away  !  "  met  her 
xrom  that  quarter,  and  she  paused,  then  went 
slowly  and  backwards  to  her  place,  her  largo 
blue  eyes  fixed  on  her  mother. 


SYXNOVE    SOLBAKKEX.  55 

"  I  have  always  heard  that  you  were  good," 
said  Thorbjorn. 

"  Yes,  that  may  be  sometimes  when  I  have 
been  reading,"  she  replied. 

"  Is  it  true  that  you  have  such  a  lot  of  nisses 
and  trolls  and  other  bad  things  over  your  way  ?  " 
asked  he,  placing  his  hands  on  his  sides,  with 
one  foot  thrust  forward,  and  resting  on  the 
other,  just  as  he  had  seen  Aslak  do. 

"  Mother,  mother !  Do  you  know  what  he 
says  ?     He  says  "  — 

"  Let  me  alone  !  Do  you  hear  ?  And  do 
not  come  here  before  I  call  you  !  " 

She  had  to  retreat  again,  slowly  and  back- 
wards ;  as  she  did  so  she  put  a  corner  of  her 
handkerchief  in  her  mouth,  bit  it  hard,  and 
pulled  at  it. 

"  Is  it  not  true  at  all  that  every  night  there 
is  music  inside  of  the  hills  over  there  ?  " 

«  No  !  " 

"  Have  you  never  seen  trolls,  then  ?  " 

"No!" 

"But,  in  the  name  of  Jesus  "  — 

'  Fy  !     You  must  not  say  that !  " 

"  Oh,  pshaw  !  —  that  is  nothing  !  "  said  he, 
spitting  between  his  teeth  to  show  how  far  he 
could  spit. 

"  Yes,  it  is,"  she  replied  ;  "  for  if  you  talk  so 
vou  will  go  to  hell." 


56  SYNNOVE   SOLBAKKEX. 

"  Do  you  think  so  ?  "  asked  he,  decidedly 
more  humble;  for  he  had  only  thought  that  he 
might  get  a  whipping  for  it,  and  his  father 
was  now  standing  so  far  away.  "  Who,  for  in- 
stance, is  the  strongest  over  your  way?"  asked 
he,  and  pushed  his  cap  a  little  more  to  one 
side. 

"  I  am  sure  I  do  not  know." 

"  Well,  over  our  way  it  is  father.  He  is  so 
strong  that  he  thrashes  Aslak ;  and  Aslak  is 
strong,  I  can  tell  you." 

"  Ah,  indeed  !  " 

"  Once  he  lifted  a  horse." 

"  A  horse  ?  " 

"  Yes  ;  that  is  as  true,  as  true  —  for  he  told 
me  so  himself." 

Then  she  could  have  no  doubts,  either. 

"  Who  is  Aslak  ?  "  asked  she. 

"  He  is  a  very  bad  boy,  I  can  assure  you. 
Father  whipped  him  so  hard  that  in  the  whole 
world  there  never  was  any  one  whipped  so  hard 
before." 

"  Do  you  fight  over  there  at  your  house  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sometimes,  when  —  Do  not  you  do 
bo  over  at  your  house  ?  " 

"  No,  never." 

"  What  do  you  do  there,  then  ?  " 

"  Oh,  mother  gets  the  meals  ready,  knits,  and 


SYNNOVE   SOLBAKKEN.  57 

sews ;  Kari  does  these  things,  too,  but  not  as 
well  as  mother,  for  Kari  is  so  lazy.  But  Randi 
takes  care  of  the  cows ;  father  and  the  boys  work 
out  in  the  field,  or  else  keep  busy  at  home." 
This  seemed  to  him  a  satisfactory  explanation. 
"  Then  every  evening  we  read  and  we  sing,"  she 
continued,  "  and  we  do  so  on  Sundays,  too." 

"  All  of  you  ?  " 

"Yes."   * 

"  That  must  be  tedious." 

"  Tedious  ?  Mother,  he  says  "  —  but  then 
she  remembered  that  it  was  forbidden  her  to 
bother  her  mother.  "  Oh,  you  had  better  be- 
lieve I  own  ever  so  many  sheep,"  said  she. 

"  Do  you  ?  " 

"Yes.  Three  of  them  are  going  to  have 
lambs  this  winter,  and  one  of  them,  I  am  quite 
sure,  will  have  two." 

"  And  so  you  have  sheep,  have  you  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  and  I  have  cows  and  pigs,  too.  Have 
you  none  ?  " 

"  No." 

"  If  you  will  come  over  to  see  me,  you  shall 
have  a  lamb.  Then  you  will  surely  get  more 
from  it." 

"  That  would  be  too  nice  for  anything." 

They  were  silent  for  a  while.  "  Cannot  In- 
tjrid  have  a  lamb,  too  ?  "  asked  he. 


58  synnove  solbakken. 

"Who  is  Ingrid?" 

"  Why,  Ingrid,  —  little  Ingrid." 

No,  she  did  not  know  her. 

"  Is  she  smaller  than  you  ?  " 

"  Yes,  of  course  she  is  smaller  than  I,  —  just 
about  like  you." 

"  Oh,  dear  me  !    You  must  bring  her  along 
do  you  hear  ?  " 

Yes,  he  would  do  so. 

"  But,"  said  she,  "  if  you  get  a  lamb,  she  can 
have  a  pig." 

This  he,  too,  thought  was  far  wiser;  and  then 
they  talked  a  little  about  their  common  ac- 
quaintances, of  whom,  to  be  sure,  they  had  not 
many.  Their  parents  were  now  ready,  and  they 
must  go  home. 

That  night  he  dreamed  about  Solbakken,  and 
he  thought  he  saw  only  white  lambs  over  there, 
and  a  little  fair  girl  with  red  ribbons  in  the 
midst  of  them.  Ingrid  and  he  talked  every 
single  day  about  going  to  Solbakken.  They 
had  so  many  lambs  and  little  pigs  to  tend  that 
they  knew  not  which  way  to  turn  among  them. 
Meanwhile,  they  wondered  greatly  that  they 
could  not  go  over  there  at  once. 

"Just  because  that  little  girl  asked  you?" 
said  the  mother.    "Did  you  ever  hear  the  like!' 

(t  Never  mind  ;  you   just  wait  till  the  next 


SYNNOVE   SOLBAKKEN.  5c> 

Sunday  there  is  service,"  thought   Thorbjorn 
"and  then  you  shall  see." 

It  came. 

"You  are  said  to  be  so  bad  about  boasting 
and  lying  and  swearing,"  said  Synnove  to  him, 
"  that  you  cannot  be  allowed  to  come  until  you 
have  stopped  your  bad  habits." 

"  Who  says  so?  "  asked  Thorbjorn,  surprised. 

"  Mother." 

Ingrid  waited  in  suspense  for  his  coming 
home,  and  he  told  her  and  the  mother  what 
had  happened. 

"  Now  you  see  !  "  said  the  mother.  Ingrid 
said  nothing ;  but  after  this  both  she  and  the 
mother  reminded  him  every  time  he  swore  or 
boasted.  Ingrid  and  he,  meanwhile,  fell  into  a 
quarrel  about  whether  "  the  dog  take  me  "  was 
swearing  or  not.  Ingrid  got  a  whipping,  and 
after  that  he  kept  using  "  the  dog  take  me"  the 
whole  day.  But  toward  evening  his  father 
heard  it.  "  Yes,  he  shall  take  you  !  "  said  he, 
and  gave  him  a  blow  that  sent  him  reeling. 
Thorbjorn  felt  most  ashamed  before  Ingrid,  but 
after  a  little  while  she  came  over  to  him  and 
patted  him. 

A  few  months  later  they  both  made  a  visit 
to  Solbakken ;  Synnove  afterward  came  to  visit 
them:  they  over  to  Solbakken  again;  and  thus 


60  SYNNOVE   SOLBAKKEN. 

it  continued  all  the  while  they  were  growing 
up.  Thorbjorn  and  Synnove  were  rivals  in  their 
studies  ;  they  went  to  the  same  school,  and  he 
became  at  last  the  more  clever  scholar  of  the 
two,  —  so  clever  that  the  priest  interested  him- 
self in  him.  Ingrid  did  not  get  on  so  well ;  and 
both  the  others  therefore  helped  her.  She  and 
Synnove  became  so  inseparable  that  people 
called  them  the  "  ptarmigans,"  because  they 
always  flew  together,  and  both  had  very  fair 
hair  and  complexions. 

It  happened,  occasionally,  that  Synnove  got 
angry  with  Thorbjorn,  because  he  was  so  ex- 
citable and  fell  into  so  many  squabbles.  Ingrid 
always  acted  as  peacemaker,  and  then  they  be- 
came good  friends  again  as  before.  But  if  Syn- 
nove's  mother  heard  of  his  fighting,  he  was  not 
allowed  to  come  to  Solbakken  that  week,  and 
hardly  the  next.  No  one  dared  tell  Saemund 
anything  about  such  things  ;  "  he  is  so  severe 
with  the  lad,"  said  his  wife,  and  imposed  silence 
upon  all. 

As  they  grew  up,  all  three  became  good-look- 
ing, although  each  in  his  own  way.  Synnove 
grew  tall  and  slender,  had  flaxen  hair,  a  finely 
moulded,  bright  face,  with  calm  blue  eyes. 
When  she  spoke,  she  smiled,  and  people  soon 
Baid  it  was  a  blessing  to  come  within  the  atmos 


SYNNOVE   SOLBAKKEX.  61 

phere  of  her  smiles.  Ingrid  was  smaller,  but 
stouter,  had  still  lighter  hair,  and  a  very  little 
face  that  was  soft  and  round.  Thorbjorn  be- 
came of  medium  height,  but  was  extremely  well 
formed,  had  dark  hair,  dark  blue  eyes,  a  sharply 
cut  face,  and  strong  limbs.  He  had  a  habit  of 
saying  of  himself,  when  he  was  angry,  that  he 
could  read  and  write  just  as  well  as  the  school- 
master, and  feared  no  man  in  the  valley,  —  ex- 
cept his  father,  he  thought,  but  he  did  not  add 
that, 

Thorbjorn  wished  to  be  confirmed  early  ;  but 
that  could  not  be.  "  As  long  as  you  are  not 
confirmed  you  are  only  a  boy,  and  I  can  better 
control  you  !  "  said  his  father.  So  it  chanced 
that  he,  Synnove,  and  Ingrid  went  to  the  priest 
at  the  same  time.  Synnove,  too,  had  waited  un 
usually  long  ;  she  was  fifteen,  in  her  sixteenth 
year.  "  We  never  can  know  enough  when  we 
come  to  make  our  confirmation  vow,"  her 
mother  had  always  said  ;  and  her  father,  Gut- 
torm  Solbakken,  had  answered  "  yes  "  to  this. 
So  it  was  not  strange  that  a  couple  of  suitors 
began  to  put  in  an  appearance :  one  the  son  of 
people  of  the  better  class,  another  a  rich  neigh- 
bor. 

"  It  is  too  bad  !     She  is  not  yet  confirmed  !  " 
"  Well,  then,  we  must  have  her  confirmed," 


62  SYNNOVE   SOLBAKKEN. 

said  the  father.  But  Synnove  herself  knew 
nothing  of  this. 

At  the  parsonage,  the  ladies  of  the  priest's 
family  thought  so  well  of  Synnove  that  they  in- 
vited her  in,  to  talk  with  her.  Ingrid  and  Thor- 
bjorn  waited  outside  among  the  rest,  and  when  a 
boy  said  to  the  latter,  "  So  you  did  not  get  in 
with  her  ?  They  are  surely  going  to  take  her 
away  from  you  !  "  it  cost  that  boy  a  black  eye. 
From  this  time  forth,  it  got  to  be  a  habit  among 
the  other  boys  to  tease  him  about  Synnove,  and 
it  became  apparent  that  nothing  could  throw 
him  into  a  greater  rage.  In  a  grove  below  the 
parsonage  there  took  place,  at  last,  by  agree- 
ment, a  big  fight,  which  had  this  teasing  for  its 
cause ;  the  fight  had  grown  to  such  an  extent 
that  Thorbjorn  had  to  deal  with  a  whole  crowd 
at  once.  The  girls  had  gone  on  in  advance,  so 
there  was  no  one  to  part  them,  and  the  fight 
grew,  therefore,  worse  and  worse.  He  did  not 
want  to  give  up;  several  attacked  him  at  once, 
and  so  he  defended  himself  as  best  he  could, 
and  the  blows  he  dealt  about  him  betrayed 
afterwards  what  had  taken  place.  The  cause 
came  out  at  the  same  time,  and  it  made  a  great 
deal  of  talk  in  the  parish. 

The  next  Sunday  there  was  service  Thor- 
bjorn would  not  go  to  church ;  and  the  next  day 


SYNNOVE   SOLBAKKEN.  63 

they  were  to  go  to  the  priest  he  feigned  illness. 
And  so  Ingrid  went  alone.  He  asked  her,  on 
her  return  home,  what  Synnove  had  said. 

"  Nothing." 

When  he  joined  the  others  again,  he  thought 
that  every  one  looked  at  him,  and  that  the  rest 
of  the  class  giggled.  But  Synnove  came  later 
than  the  others,  and  passed  much  time  with  the 
priest's  family  that  day.  He  feared  a  scolding 
from  the  priest,  but  soon  became  aware  that  the 
only  two  in  the  parish  who  knew  nothing  of  the 
fight 'were  his  own  father  and  the  priest.  This 
matter  was  not  so  bad,  after  all ;  but  how  he 
should  gain  access  to  Synnove  again,  he  knew 
not,  for  it  was  the  first  time  that  he  did  not 
really  like  to  ask  Ingrid  to  intercede.  After 
the  recitation  was  over,  Synnove  was  again  in 
at  the  priest's  ;  he  waited  as  long  as  there  was 
any  one  else  in  the  grounds,  but  at  last  he  too 
had  to  go.     Ingrid  had  gone  among  the  first. 

The  next  day,  Synnove  had  come  before  all 
the  others,  and  was  walking  in  the  garden  with 
one  of  the  young  ladies  and  a  young  gentleman. 
The  young  lady  took  up  some  flowering  plants, 
and  gave  them  to  Synnove  ;  the  gentleman  as- 
sisted ;  and  Thorbjorn  stood  among  the  rest 
outside,  and  looked  on.  They  explained  to  her 
qiuite  loud,  so  they  all  heard  it,  how  these  plants 


64  SYNNOVE   SOLBAKKEX. 

were  to  be  set  out,  and  Synnove  promised  to 
attend  to  them  herself,  that  everything  might 
be  just  as  they  said.  "  You  cannot  do  it  alone," 
said  the  gentleman,  and  Thorbjorn  pondered 
over  this.  When  Synnove  came  out  to  the  oth- 
ers, they  showed  far  more  respect  for  her  than 
usual,  but  Synnove  went  over  to  Ingrid,  greeted 
her  gently,  and  asked  her  to  accompany  her 
down  to  the  green.  There  they  seated  them- 
selves, for  it  was  long  since  they  had  had  a 
good  talk  together.  Thorbjorn  again  was  left 
with  the  others,  and  looked  at  Synnove's  pretty, 
strange  flowers. 

That  day  Synnove  went  at  the  same  time  as 
the  rest.  "  May  I  carry  your  flowers  for  you?  " 
said  Thorbjorn. 

"  Yes,  if  you  like,"  she  answered,  kindly,  but 
without  looking  at  him,  and  taking  Ingrid  by 
the  hand,  went  on  ahead.  At  the  foot  of  Sol- 
bakken  she  paused,  and  bade  Ingrid  farewell. 
"  I  can  carry  them  myself  the  short  distance 
that  remains,"  said  she,  and  took  up  the  basket 
Thorbjorn  had  set  down.  The  whole  way  he 
had  been  thinking  about  offering  to  plant  the 
flowers  for  her,  but  now  he  could  not  muster 
the  courage,  for  she  turned  away  so  abruptly. 
But  afterwards  he  thought  of  nothing  el> 
vpt  that  he,  still,  ought  to  have  helped  her 
with  those  flowers. 


SYNNOVE   SOLBAKKF.N.  G5 

"  What  were  you  two  talking  about  ?  "  he 
asked  Ingrid. 

"  About  nothing." 

When  the  rest  were  well  in  bed,  he  quietly- 
dressed  himself  again  and  went  out.  It  was  a 
beautiful  evening,  balmy  and  still ;  the  sky  was 
faintly  overcast  with  bluish-gray  clouds,  here 
and  there  torn  asunder,  so  that  it  seemed  as 
though  some  one  might  be  peering  out  from 
the  dark  blue  as  from  an  eye.  No  one  was  to 
be  seen  about  the  houses  or  farther  away ;  but 
the  grasshoppers  were  chirping  all  through 
the  grass,  a  rail  piping  on  the  right  was  an- 
swered on  the  left,  and  then  there  began  a 
singing  in  the  grass  from  place  to  place,  so  that 
it  seemed  to  the  wanderer  as  though  he  were 
attended  by  a  large  company  of  followers,  al- 
though he  did  not  see  a  single  one.  The  forest 
stretched  upwards,  now  blue,  now  dark  and 
still  darker  toward  the  rocky  waste,  and  looked 
like  a  great  sea  of  mist.  But  through  this  he 
heard  the  heath-cock  strike  up  its  note,  a  single 
owl  shriek,  and  the  force  chant  its  old,  vigorous 
rhymes  louder  than  ever,  now  that  all  had  set- 
tled down  to  give  ear  thereto.  Thorbjorn 
looked  over  toward  Solbakken,  and  went  on- 
ward. He  turned  off  from  the  usual  path, 
quickly  reached  the  gard,  and  very  soon  stood 
5 


66  synnove  solbakken. 

in  the  little  garden  that  belonged  to  Synnove, 
and  that  lay  directly  beneath  the  one  loft  win- 
dow he  knew  so  well,  that  of  the  chamber 
in  which  she  slept.  He  listened  and  peered 
afound,  but  all  was  still.  Then  he  searched 
about  the  garden  for  working  implements,  and 
sure  enough  there  he  found  both  spade  and  hoe. 
The  spading  of  a  bed  had  been  commenced  ; 
only  a  small  corner  was  finished,  but  in  it  two 
plants  were  already  set  out,  probably  to  see 
how  they  looked.  "  She  became  tired,  poor  girl, 
and  left  it,"  he  thought.  "  It  takes  a  man  to 
do  this,"  he  thought  further,  and  set  to  work. 
He  did  not  feel  the  slightest  desire  for  sleep; 
indeed,  it  even  seemed  to  him  that  he  had  never 
performed  so  easy  a  task.  He  remembered  how 
they  were  to  be  set  out,  remembered  also  the 
parsonage  garden,  and  planted  them  accord- 
ingly. Night  passed  away,  but  he  was  not 
aware  of  it ;  he  scarcely  paused  to  rest,  and  had 
the  whole  bed  spaded,  the  flowers  set  out,  one 
here  and  there  planted  over  again  to  give  a 
better  effect,  and  ever  and  anon  he  would  steal 
a  glance  up  at  the  chamber  window  to  see 
whether  any  one  was  watching  him.  But 
neither  there  nor  elsewhere  was  any  one  to  be 
seen,  nor  did  he  hear  so  much  as  the  barking 
of  a  dog  before  the  cock  began  to  crow,  awaken 


SYNNOVE   SOLBAKKEN.  67 

ing  the  forest  birds,  who  then,  one  after  another, 
piped  up  their  '*  good-morning  "  song.  While 
he  stood  there  patting  down  the  earth  around, 
the  bed,  he  thought  of  the  tales  Aslak  had  told 
him,  and  how  once  he  had  believed  that  trolls 
and  nisses  grew  over  at  Solbakken.  He  looked 
up  at  Synnbve's  window,  and  smiled,  as  he 
wondered  what  she  would  think  now  in  the 
morning  hour.  It  had  become  pretty  light,  the 
birds  were  already  making  a  terrible  racket, 
and  so  he  leaped  over  the  fence  and  hastened 
home.  No  one  should  be  able  to  say  that  it 
was  he  who  had  been  there  and  set  out  flowers 
in  Svnnove  SoVbakken's  garden. 


CHAPTER   III. 

Soon  all  kinds  of  things  were  said  in  the 
parish  ;  but  no  one  knew  anything  with  cer- 
tainty. Thorbjorn  was  not  seen  any  more  at 
Solbakken  after  he  and  Synnove  were  confirmed, 
and  this  was  what  people  could  least  under- 
stand. Ingrid  often  went  over  there  ;  Synnove 
and  she  would  then  usually  take  a  walk  in  the 
wood.  "  Do  not  stay  away  too  long ! "  the  mother 
would  call  after  them.  "  Oh,  no,"  Synnove 
would  answer,  and  not  come  home  before  the 
dusk  of  the  evening.  The  two  suitors  presented 
themselves  anew.  "  She  will  have  to  attend  to 
the  matter  herself,"  said  the  mother;  the  father 
thought  the  same.  But  when  Synnove  was 
taken  aside  and  questioned,  they  were  rejected. 
Then  several  others  made  their  appearance,  but 
no  one  heard  that  they  brought  good  luck  home 
with  them  from  Solbakken.  Once,  when  her 
mother  and  she  stood  scouring  some  wooden 
milk-pans,  the  mother  asked  whom  it  was  she 
was  really  thinking  about.  The  question  came 
so  suddenly  upon  her  that  she  blushed.     "  Have 


SYNNOVE   SOLBAKKEN.  69 

you  given  any  one  a  promise  ? "  the  mother 
asked,  and  fixed  her  eyes  on  her.  "  No,"  an- 
swered Synnove,  promptly.  There  was  noth- 
ing further  said  upon  the  subject. 

As  she  was  the  best  match  in  the  parish, 
she  was  followed  by  eager  eyes  when  she  ap- 
peared at  church,  the  only  place  where  she  was 
to  be  seen  outside  of  her  own  home ;  that  is 
to  say,  she  was  never  found  at  any  dance  or 
other  merry-making,  because  her  parents  were 
Haugians.  Thorbjorn  sat  directly  opposite  her 
at  church,  but  they  never  talked  together,  so 
far  as  people  could  observe.  Nevertheless,  each 
and  every  one  felt  assured  that  there  must  be 
something  between  them  ;  and  as  they  did  not 
go  about  together  in  the  same  way  as  other 
young  lovers  in  the  valley,  there  began  to  be  a 
great  deal  of  talk.  Thorbjorn  did  not  seem  to 
be  much  liked.  He  probably  felt  this  himself  ; 
for  he  was  pretty  rough  in  his  conduct  when 
several  were  together,  as,  for  example,  at  dances 
and  weddings ;  and  so  it  happened  that  now 
and  then  he  would  rush  into  a  fight.  There 
came  a  lull,  however,  after  several  had  learned 
how  strong  he  was  ;  and  so  Thorbjorn  early 
formed  the  habit  not  to  brook  having  any  one 
stand  the  least  in  his  way.  "  You  are  now  re- 
sponsible to  yourself  alone,"  said  Ssemund,  his 


70  SYNNOVE   SOLBAKKEN. 

father ;  "but  you  will  do  well  to  remember  that 
perhaps  I  am  stronger  than  you." 

Autumn  and  winter  passed  away;  spring 
came,  and  still  people  knew  nothing  definite. 
There  were  circulated  so  many  rumors  con- 
cerning the  refusals  Synnove  had  given  that 
her  company  almost  ceased  to  be  sought.  But 
Ingrid  was  her  constant  companion.  They  two 
were  to  go  together  to  the  saeter1  this  year, 
the  Solbakken  family  having  purchased  a  share 
in  the  Granlid  saeter.  Thorbjorn  was  heard 
singing  up  in  the  mountains,  for  he  was  get- 
ting ready  one  thing  and  another  for  them. 

One  beautiful  day,  when  it  was  already  draw- 
ing toward  evening,  and  his  work  was  done,  he 
sat  down  to  think  matters  over.  His  thoughts 
probably  dwelt  chiefly  upon  what  was  being 
talked  of  in  the  parish.  He  laid  himself  on 
his  back  in  the  red  and  brown  heather,  and 
with  hands  under  his  head  he  fell  to  gazing  up 
at  the  sky,  which  moved  so  blue  and  glittering 
above  the  dense  tree-tops.  The  green  leaves 
and  pine  needles  flowed  out  over  it  in  a  quiver- 
ing stream,  and  the  dark  branches  which  cut 
through  this  made  strange,  wild  designs  therein. 
But  the  sky  itself  could  only  be  seen  when  a 
leaf  was  wafted  aside;  farther  away,  through 

»  The  mountain  pasture. 


SYNXOVE   SOLBAKKEN.  71 

the  tree-tops,  which  did  not  touch  one  another, 
it  burst  forth  like  a  broad  river,  in  whimsical 
oscillations,  and  flowed  over.  This  attuned  his 
mood,  and  he  began  to  think  of  what  he  saw. 

The  birch  laughed  again,  with  its  thousand 
eyes,  up  at  the  spruce ;  the  fir  stood  there  with 
silent  contempt,  its  spikes  bristling  on  every 
side,  for  as  the  breeze  gradually  became  more 
caressing,  more  and  more  of  the  saplings  quick- 
ened, darted  upward,  and  thrust  their  fresh  foli- 
age right  under  the  nose  of  the  fir.  "  Where 
were  you,  I  wonder,  last  winter?  "  inquired  the 
fir,  waving  to  and  fro,  and  perspiring  rosin,  in 
an  intolerable  heat.  "  This  is  almost  too  bad  \ 
—  so  far  to  the  north.     Whew  !  " 

But  then  there  was  an  old,  gray,  bald  fir,  that, 
towering  above  all  the  others,  could  still  reach 
down  a  many-fingered  branch,  almost  perpen- 
dicularly, and  seize  a  courageous  linden  by  its 
topmost  poll,  and  make  it  shiver  clear  down  to 
its  knees.  This  fathom-thick  fir  had  had  its 
branches  lopped  by  man,  higher  and  higher  up, 
until  at  last,  weary  and  disgusted,  it  suddenly 
shot  so  far  upward  that  the  slender  spruce  at 
its  side  became  frightened,  and  asked  whether 
it,  too,  remembered  winter's  storms. 

"Do  I  remember  them?"  said 'the  fir,  and 
with   the   aid    of   the   north    wind   boxed   the 


72  synnove  solbakkex. 

spruce's  ears  so  smartly  that  it  was  not  far  from 
losing  its  balance,  and  that  was  bad  enough. 
The  large-limbed,  dusky-hued  fir  had  now 
planted  such  a  mighty  foot  in  the  ground  that 
its  toes  stuck  out  at  least  six  yards  off,  and 
were  even  thicker  than  the  thickest  part  of  the 
willow,  as  the  latter  shyly  whispered,  one  even- 
ing, to  the  love-sick  hop-vine  that  twined  it- 
self up  over  it.  The  bearded  fir  was  conscious 
of  its  power,  and  said  to  man,  as  far  beyond  his 
reach  it  put  forth  branch  after  branch,  "  Strip 
me  if  you  can  !  " 

"  No,  they  cannot  strip  you  !  "  said  the  eagle, 
as  he  graciously  alighted  on  the  fir,  folded  his 
wings  with  dignity,  and  brushed  some  miserable 
sheep's  blood  off  his  feathers.  "  I  really  think 
I  shall  ask  the  queen  to  settle  here ;  she  has 
some  eggs  she  must  lay,"  he  added  more  softly, 
and  looked  down  at  his  bald  legs  ;  for  he  was 
ashamed  because  there  came  rushing  over  him 
a  quantity  of  tender  memories  of  those  earliest 
spring  days,  during  which  one  is  apt  to  become 
rather  foolish  with  the  first  warmth  of  the  sun. 
Soon  he  raised  his  head  again,  and  gazed  from 
beneath  his  feather-shaded  brows  up  into  the 
dark  mountain  waste,  in  order  to  see  whether 
the  queen,  egg-laden  and  suffering,  might  not 
be  sailing  about  there.     Off  he  then  flew,  and 


synnove  solbakken.  73 

the  fir  could  soon  see  the  pair  far  away  toward 
the  clear,  blue  ether,  where  they  were  sailing 
as  high  as  the  loftiest  mountain  peak,  and  were 
discussing  their  household  concerns.  It  cannot 
be  denied  that  the  fir  was  a  trifle  anxious  ;  for, 
proud  though  it  felt,  it  would  be  still  prouder 
to  get  a  brace  of  young  eagles  to  cradle.  The 
pair  came  down,  and  directly  to  it.  The}r  did 
not  speak  to  each  other,  but  set  right  to  work 
to  fetch  twigs.  The  fir  expanded,  if  possible, 
more  than  ever;  nor  was  there  any  one  who 
could  hinder  it  from  doing  this. 

But  through  the  rest  of  the  forest  there  was 
a  busy  chatter,  when  it  was  seen  what  honor 
had  been  bestowed  on  the  great  fir.  Thus  there 
was  a  small,  comely  birch  that  stood  mirroring 
itself  in  a  pond,  and  thought  it  had  a  right  to 
expect  a  little  love  from  a  gray  wagtail  that 
was  in  the  habit  of  taking  a  noonday  nap  on 
its  branches.  It  had  buried  the  wagtail  in  fra- 
grance clear  up  to  its  beak ;  it  had  covered 
its  leaves  with  insects,  so  that  they  were  easy 
enough  to  catch ;  nay,  finally  it  had,  in  the  heat, 
built  and  bent  together  a  well-sheltered  little 
house  of  twigs,  thatched  with  fresh  leaves,  so 
that  the  wagtail  really  was  about  to  establish  it- 
self there  for  the  summer.  Now,  however,  the 
eagle  had  taken  up  his  abode  in  the  great  fir, 


74  SYNNOVE    SOLBAKKEN. 

and  off  it  must  go.  Here,  indeed,  was  sorrow! 
It  trilled  out  a  parting  song,  but  very  softly, 
that  the  eagle  might  not  notice  it. 

Some  small  sparrows,  in  the  alder  bush  yon- 
der, did  not  fare  much  better.  They  had  kept 
up  such  a  clatter  that  a  thrush,  up  in  an  ash 
hard  by,  had  never  got  to  sleep  at  the  right 
time,  had  become  furiously  angry  sometimes, 
and  had  made  a  fuss.  A  solemn  woodpecker 
in  the  neighboring  tree  had  laughed  until  it 
had  almost  lost  its  footing.  But  then  the  eagle 
was  seen  in  the  great  fir !  and  the  thrush  and 
the  little  sparrows  and  the  woodpecker,  and 
every  creature  that  had  wings,  must  be  off  in 
a  great  hurry,  over  and  under  the  branches. 
The  thrush  had  sworn,  as  he  flew  away,  that 
he  would  never  again  take  a  house  where  he 
had  sparrows  for  neighbors. 

So  the  whole  forest  stood  there,  forsaken,  and 
musing  amidst  the  cheerful  sunshine.  It  was 
to  have  all  its  joy  in  the  great  fir,  but  that  was 
a  poor  joy.  The  forest  bowed  down  anxiously 
every  time  the  north  wind  stirred,  the  great  fii 
beat  the  air  with  its  mighty  branches,  and  the 
eagle  flew  in  a  circle  around  it,  calm  and  com- 
posed, as  though  this  were  merely  a  creeping 
puff  of  wind,  that  was  bearing  upward  some 
paltry  perfumes  from  the  forest.    But  the  whole 


synnOve  solbakken.  75 

fir  family  was  glad.     Not  one  remembered  that 
it  would  get  no  nest  to  rock  this  year. 

"  Away  !  "  said  the  fir-trees ;  "  we  are  of  the 
same  family." 

"  What  are  you  lying  tnere  and  thinking 
about?"  asked  Ingrid,  who  smilingly  advanced 
from  between  some  shrubs  she  was  bending 
aside. 

Thorbjorn  started  up. 

"  Oh,  so  many  things  can  play  in  one's 
mind,"  said  he,  and  gazed  defiantly  over  the 
trees.  "  Besides,  there  is  so  much  talk  in  the 
parish,  in  these  days,"  he  added,  as  he  brushed 
some  dust  from  his  clothes. 

"  Why  do  you  always  trouble  yourself  so 
much  about  what  people  say  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  do  not  know,  exactly  ;  but  —  people 
have  never  yet  said  anything  that  was  not  in 
my  mind,  whether  it  was  in  my  actions  or  not." 

"  That  is  a  naughty  thing  to  say." 

"  So  it  is,"  said  he.  Presently  he  added, 
"  But  it  is  true." 

She  sat  down  on  the  greensward  ;  he  stood 
with  his  eyes  fixed  on  the  ground. 

"  I  can  easily  become  what  they  want  me 
to  be ;  they  had  better  let  me  be  as  I  am." 

"  Then  it  really  is  your  own  fault,  after  all." 


76  SYNNOVE  SOLBAKKEN. 

"  That  may  be,  but  the  rest  have  a  share 
in  it.  I  tell  you,  I  want  peace  ! "  he  almost 
shouted,  and  looked  up  at  the  eagle. 

"  Why,  Thorbjorn  !  "  whispered  Ingrid. 

He  turned  toward  her,  and  laughed. 

"  Hush  !  hush !  "  said  he.  "  As  I  told  you, 
many  things  can  play  in  one's  mind.  Have 
you  spoken  with  Synnove  to-day  ?  " 

"  Yes.    She  has  already  gone  to  the  saeter." 

«  To-day  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  With  the  Solbakken  cattle  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"Tralala! 
The  sun  does  his  tree  afar  behold, 

Triumlire! 
'  Art  thou  there,  0  thou,  my  own  glittering  gold?  ' 
Triumlit,  triumling! 
Wakes  the  bird,  with  a  spring. 
'  What  is  the  matter?  '  " 

"  To-morrow  we  let  loose  oar  cattle,"  said 
Ingrid.  She  wanted  to  turn  his  thoughts  in 
another  direction. 

"  I  am  to  go  along  and  drive  them  !  "  said 
Thorbjorn. 

"No,  father  wants  to  go  himself." 

"Ah,  indeed  !  "  observed  he,  and  was  silent. 

"  He  asked  for  you  to-day,"  said  she. 

''  Did  he  ?  "  said  Thorbjorn,  and  cutting  off 
a  twig  with  his  sheath  knife,  he  began  to  strip 
the  bark  from  it. 


SYKNOVE   SOLBAKKEN.  77 

"  You  should  talk  more  with  father  than 
you  do,"  said  she,  gently.  "  He  thinks  a  great 
deal  of  you,"  she  added. 

"  That  may  be  so,"  replied  he. 

"  He  often  talks  of  you  when  you  are  out." 

"All  the  less  frequently  when  I  am  in." 

"  That  is  your  fault." 

"Perhaps  it  is." 

"You  must  not  talk  so,  Thorbjornj  you  knew 
very  well  what  there  is  between  you." 

"  What  is  there  ?  " 

"Shall  7 repeat  it?" 

"  It  may  as  well  come  out  at  once,  Ingrid , 
you  know  as  much  as  I  do." 

"  Yes,  to  be  sure.  You  will  go  your  own 
way,  and  that  you  know  he  does  not  like." 

"No;  he  would  rather  keep  me  in  leading- 
strings." 

"  Yes,  especially  when  you  are  going  to 
fight." 

"  Are  people  to  be  allowed  to  do  and  say 
whatever  they  choose  ?  " 

"  No ;  but  you  can  keep  out  of  their  way. 
That  is  what  father  has  done  himself,  and  he 
has  become  a  respected  man  by  so  doing." 

"  Perhaps  he  has  been  less  tormented  than 
1  have  been." 

Ingrid   was   silent  a   little  while ;  then    she 


78  SYNNOVE   SOLBAKKEN. 

continued,  after  glancing  around  her :  "  There 
is  no  use  in  speaking  of  this  again  ;  but  still, 
whenever  you  know  that  enemies  are  in  wait- 
ing, you  ought  to  keep  out  of  the  way." 

"  No  ;  that  is  just  where  I  want  to  be  !  My 
name  is  not  Thorbjorn  Granliden  for  nothing." 

He  had  stripped  the  bark  from  the  twig  ; 
now  he  cut  the  latter  in  two.  Ingrid  fixed  her 
eyes  on  him,  and  asked,  rather  slowly,  "  Are 
you  going  to  Nordhoug  on   Sunday?" 

"Yes." 

After  having  sat  silent  for  a  while,  without 
looking  at  him,  she  said  again,  "  Do  you  know 
that  Knud  Nordhoug  has  come  home  to  his 
sister's  wedding?  " 

"  Yes." 

Now  she  looked  at  him.  "Thorbjorn!  Thor- 
bjorn !  " 

"  Shall  he  be  allowed  now  any  more  than 
before  to  interfere  between  me  and  others  ?  " 

"  He  does  not  interfere,  —  not  more  than 
others  wish." 

"Nobody  knows  what  others  may  wish." 

"  Yes,  you  do  know  well  enough." 

"  At  all  events,  she  never  says  anything  her- 
eelf." 

"  Oh,  how  you  do  talk ! "  said  Ingrid,  looking 
displeased  ;  and  then,  getting  up,  she  glanced 
over  her  shoulder. 


SYNNOVE   SOLBAKKEN.  79 

He  flung  away  his  bits  of  twig,  put  liis  knife 
into  its  sheath,  and  turned  toward  her. 

"  Listen  !  I  sometimes  get  tired  of  this. 
People  ruin  both  my  honor  and  hers  with  their 
gossip,  for  nothing  is  done  openly.  And,  on 
the  other  hand,  —  I  cannot  so  much  as  go 
over  to  Solbakken,  —  because  her  parents  do 
not  like  me,  she  says.  I  am  not  allowed  to 
visit  her  as  other  lads  go  to  see  their  girls, 
because  she  is  now  one  of  the  saints — to  be 
sure !  " 

"  Thorbjorn  !  "  said  Ingrid,  becoming  rather 
uneasy. 

But  he  continued:  "Father  will  not  put  in 
a  word  for  me.  '  If  I  deserve  her  I  will  get 
her,'  he  says.  Stuff,  nonsense,  on  the  one  side, 
and  no  compensation  for  it  all  on  the  other  ! 
\Vl13r,  I  do  not  as  much  as  know  whether  she 
really  "  — 

Ingrid  started  forward,  and  placed  her  hand 
over  his  mouth,  looking  behind  her  as  she  did 
so.  Just  then  the  bushes  were  bent  aside,  and  a 
tall,  slender  person,  blushing  rosy  red,  stepped 
forward  :  it  was  Synnove. 

"  Good-evening  !  "  said  she. 

Ingrid  looked  at  Thorbjorn  as  though  she 
would  say:  "There,  you  can  see  for  yourself  !  " 
Thorbjorn    glanced    at    Ingrid    as    though    he 


80  SYNNOVE   SOLBAKKEN. 

wanted  to  say,   "  You  should   not  have  dune 
so."     Neither  looked  at  Synnove. 

"  I  suppose  I  may  be  allowed  to  sit  down  a 
while  :  I  have  walked  so  much  to-day,"  and  she 
seated  herself. 

Thorbjorn  turned  his  head  as  if  to  see 
whether  it  was  dry  where  she  had  sat  down. 
Ingrid  had  let  her  eyes  wander  over  to  Gran- 
liden,  and  now  she  suddenly  cried  out,  — 

"  Oh  dear  !  oh  dear  !  Fagerlin  has  got  loose, 
and  is  going  across  the  new-plowed  field.  The 
horrid  beast!  What,  Kelleros,  too?  Well, 
that  is  really  too  much  ;  it  is  time  for  us  to  be 
off  to  the  saeter !  "  and  she  started  down  the 
slope,  without  even  saying  farewell.  Synnove 
arose  at  once. 

"  Are  you  going  ?  "  asked  Thorbjorn 

"  Yes,"  said  she  ;  but  she  stood  still. 

"  You  might  as  well  wait  a  little,"  he  ob- 
served, without  looking  at  her. 

"  Another  time,"  replied  she,  gently. 

"  That  may  be  a  long  time  hence." 

She  raised  her  eyes.  He  was  looking  at  her 
uk>,  now;  but  it  was  quite  a  while  before  either 
spoke. 

uSit  down  again,"  said  he,  a  little  em- 
barrassed. 

**  No,"  she  answered,  and  remained  standing 


SYNNOVE    SOLBAKKEN.  81 

He  felt  a  sense  of  defiance  rising  within  him  ; 
but  just  then  she  did  something  which  he  had 
not  expected  :  she  advanced  a  step,  bent  her- 
self forward  to  him,  looked  up  into  his  eyes, 
and  said,  with  a  smile, — 

'  Are  you  angry  with  me  ?  " 

And  when  he  ventured  to  return  her  look 
she  began  to  cry. 

"  No !"  replied  he,  his  face  flaming.  He  held 
out  his  hand ;  but  as  her  eyes  were  full  of 
tears,  she  did  not  see  it,  and  he  drew  it  back. 
Presently  he  said,  "  So  you  have  heard  it?" 

"  Yes,"  she  answered,  then  looked  up  and 
smiled.  But  there  were  now  more  tears  in 
her  eyes  than  before.  He  knew  not  what  he 
should  do  and  say ;  therefore  the  words  escaped 
his  lips,  — 

"  I  have  no  doubt  behaved  too  badly." 

This  was  spoken  very  gently.  She  looked 
down  and  turned  half  away.  "  You  should 
not  judge  what  you  know  nothing  about." 

This  was  said  in  a  half-choked  voice,  and  it 
grieved  him ;  he  felt  like  a  helpless  boy,  and 
so  he  said,  as  he  could  not  think  of  anything 
else  :  "I  beg  your  pardon." 

But  now  she  actually  burst  out  crying.  This 
he  could  not  bear,  but  went  over  to  her,  put 
his   arm   about  her  waist,  and,  bending  down 


82  SYNNOVE   SOLBAKKEN. 

over  her,  said,  "Do  you  really  care  for  me, 
then,  Synnove  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  she  sobbed. 

"  But  you  are  not  happy  ?  " 

She  did  not  answer. 

"  But  you  are  not  happy  ?  "  repeated  he. 

She  now  wept  more  than  ever,  and  tried  to 
draw  herself  away. 

"  Synnove  !  "  said  he,  and  tightened  his  hold. 
She,  still  weeping,  nestled  up  to  him.  "Come, 
we  must  talk  a  little  together,"  continued  he, 
and  he  helped  her  to  a  seat  in  the  heather ;  he 
himself  sat  down  by  her  side.  She  dried  her 
eyes,  and  tried  to  smile  ;  but  she  could  not. 
He  took  one  of  her  hands,  and  looked  into  her 
face.  "  Dear,  why  cannot  I  come  over  to  Sol- 
bakken  ?  " 

She  was  silent. 

"  Have  you  never  urged  this  ?  " 

She  was  silent. 

"  Why  have  you  not  done  so  ?  "  he  asked, 
and  now  drew  her  hand  nearer  to  him. 

"  I  dare  not,"  said  she,  quite  softly. 

His  face  grew  dark  ;  he  moved  one  foot  a 
little  toward  him,  and,  resting  his  elbow  on  his 
knee,  laid  his  head  in  his  hand. 

"  In  this  way,  I  shall  probably  never  get  over 
there,"  said  ho,  finally. 


synnOve  solbakkex.  83 

Instead  of  replying,  she  began  to  pull  up  the 
heather. 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  have  no  doubt  done  many 
things  which  were  not  as  they  should  be. 
But  indeed,  people  might  bear  a  little  with  me. 
I  am  not  wicked" — he  hesitated  a  moment; 
"besides,  I  am  still  young,  —  only  a  little  over 
twenty  years  old,  but"  —  he  could  not  finish  the 
sentence  at  once.  "  But  any  one  who  is  really 
fond  of  me,"  he  added,  "ought  to"  —  and 
here  he  stopped  outright.  Then  he  heard,  in 
suppressed  tones  at  his  side, — 

"You  must  not  talk  so;  you  do  not  know 
how  much  one  —  I  dare  not  even  tell  Ingrid 
about  it" — and  again  she  burst  into  tears. 
"I  —  suffer  —  so —  much  !  " 

He  threw  his  arms  around  her,  and  drew  her 
close  to  him.  "  Talk  to  your  parents,"  whis- 
pered he,  "  and  all  will  come  right,  you  will 
see." 

"  It  will  be  as  you  wish,"  she  sobbed. 

"  As  I  wish  ?  " 

Then  Synnove  turned,  and  put  her  arm 
about  his  neck.  "  If  you  only  cared  for  me  as 
much  as  I  do  for  you,"  said  she,  very  lovingly, 
and  with  an  attempt  to  smile. 

"  And  do  I  not  ?  "  asked  he,  softly  and  ten- 
derly. 


34  SYNNOVE   SOLBAKKEN. 

"  No,  no  ;  you  never  take  ray  advice.  You 
know  what  will  bring  us  together,  but  you 
never  do  it.  Why  do  you  not  do  it?"  And 
as  she  now  at  length  had  begun  to  speak,  her 
words  flowed  freely,  and  she  continued  in  the 
s;ime  strain  :  "  Ah  me  !  if  you  only  knew  how 
I  have  longed  for  the  day  when  I  might  see 
you  over  at  Solbakken.  But  there  is  always 
something  to  hear  which  is  not  as  it  ought  to 
be,  and  your  own  parents  are  the  people  who 
bring  it  over  to  us." 

There  was  kindled,  as  it  were,  a  light  within 
him  ;  and  he  now  distinctly  saw  her  moving 
about  at  Solbakken,  waiting  for  a  little  peace- 
ful moment  when  she  might  quietly  speak  of 
him  to  her  parents  ;  but  he  never  gave  her 
such  a  moment. 

"  You  should  have  told  me  this  before, 
Synnove ! " 

"  And  have  I  not  done  so  ?  " 

"  No,  not  as  now." 

She  thought  this  over  a  little ;  presently  she 
said,  carefully  laying  small  folds  in  her  apron, 
"  Then  I  suppose  it  was  because  —  I  did  not 
quite  dare." 

But  the  idea  of  her  being  afraid  of  him 
touched  him  so  deeply  that,  for  the  first  time 
in  his  life,  he  gave  her  a  kiss. 


SYNNCVE   SOLBAKKEX.  85 

This  so  astonished  her  that  she  suddenly 
stopped  crying ;  her  eyes  grew  unsteady,  as  she 
tried  to  smile,  looked  down,  then  up  at  him, 
and  now  really  smiled.  They  talked  no  more, 
but  they  found  each  other's  hand  again;  neither 
ventured  upon  the  slightest  pressure.  Then  she 
drew  gently  back,  began  to  wipe  her  eyes  and 
her  face,  and  to  smooth  her  hair,  as  it  had  be- 
come somewhat  disordered.  He  sat  there  think- 
ing to  himself,  as  he  looked  at  her,  "  If  she  is 
more  shy  than  the  other  girls  in  the  parish, 
and  wants  to  be  treated  in  a  different  way,  it 
will  not  do  to  make  any  objections." 

He  accompanied  her  up  to  the  sseter,  which 
lay  not  very  far  distant.  He  would  have  liked 
to  walk  hand  in  hand  with  her,  but  there 
had  come  something  over  him  that  made  him 
scarcely  dare  touch  her,  and  feel  that  it  was 
strange  that  he  was  allowed  to  walk  by  her 
side. 

When  they  parted,  he  said,  "  It  shall  be 
some  time  before  you  hear  anything  bad  of  me 
again." 

At  home,  he  found  his  father  engaged  in 
carrying  grain  from  the  store-house  to  the  mill ; 
for  the  people  in  tne  parish  round  about  had 
their  grinding  done  at  the  Gran  lid  mill,  when 
the  water  in  their  own  brooks  had  given  out ; 


86  SYNNOVE   SOLBAKKEN. 

the  Granlicl  mill-stream  was  never  dry.  There 
were  a  great  many  bags  to  carry,  some  pretty 
heavy,  some  exceedingly  large.  The  women 
stood  near  by,  wringing  the  clothes  they  had 
in  the  wash.  Thorbjorn  went  over  to  his  fa- 
ther, and  laid  hold  of  a  bag.  "  Would  you  like 
me  to  help  you  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  can  do  it  very  well  alone,"  said  Sae- 
mnnd,  as  he  briskly  lifted  a  bag  on  his  back 
and  moved  away  toward  the  mill. 

"  There  are  many  of  them,"  said  Thorbjorn  ; 
and  seizing  two  large  ones,  put  his  back  up 
against  them,  and  drew  them  over  his  shoul- 
ders, each  with  one  hand,  while  he  steadied 
them  on  either  side  with  his  elbow.  Midway, 
he  met  Ssemund,  who  was  returning  for  more; 
his  father  gave  him  a  hasty  glance,  but  said 
nothing.  As  Thorbjorn,  in  his  turn,  went  back 
to  the  store-house,  he  met  Ssemund  with  two 
still  larger  bags.  This  time  Thorbjorn  took 
a  small  one,  and  went  with  it ;  when  Ssemund 
met  him  he  looked  at  him  again,  and  longer 
than  the  first  time.  So  it  happened  that  at 
last  they  met  at  the  store-house. 

"  There  has  come  a  message  from  Nordhong," 
said  Ssemund  ;  "  they  want  to  have  you  at  tht 
wedding  on  Sunday." 

Ingrid  looked  imploringly  over  at  him  from 
her  work  ;   his  mother,  too. 


SYNNOVE   SOLBAKKEN.  87 

"Ah,  indeed,"  answered  Thorbjorn,  dryly, 
but  took  this  time  the  largest  two  bags  he 
could  find. 

"  Are  you  going  ? "  asked  Saemund,  in  a 
gloomy  temper 

«  No." 


CHAPTER  TV. 

The  Granlid  saeter  was  beautifully  situated, 
sommanding  a  fine  view  of  the  parish;  of  Sol 
bakken,  first  and  foremost,  with  its  many-hued 
groves  about  it,  and  then  of  the  other  gards, 
which  lay  forest-encircled,  so  that  the  green 
patch  with  houses  in  its  midst  looked  like  a 
peace-stead  that  had  been  discovered  and 
forcibly  snatched  from  the  wild  woodlands. 
There  were  fourteen  gards  that  could  be  counted 
from  the  Granlid  saiter  ;  of  the  houses  of  the 
Granlid  gard  the  roofs  alone  could  be  seen,  and 
even  these  only  from  the  extreme  end  of  the 
Salter  lawn.  Nevertheless,  the  girls  often  sat 
watching  the  smoke  which  rose  from  the  chim- 
neys. 

"  Now,  mother  is  cooking  dinner,"  said  In- 
grid.  "  To-day  they  will  have  corned  beef  and 
bacon." 

"  Listen !  they  are  calling  the  men,"  said 
Synnove.  "  I  wonder  where  they  are  work- 
ing to-day,"  and  the  eyes  of  both  girls  followed 
the  smoke  that  darted  up  in  giddy  haste  through 


SYNNOVE   SOLBAKKEN.  89 

the  clear,  glad,  sunny  air,  but  soon  slackened  its 
speed,  considered  a  while,  then  spread  out  in  a 
broad  processional  sweep,  growing  ever  thinner 
and  thinner,  until  at  last  it  became  like  a  flut- 
tering veil,  and  soon  was  scarcely  visible.  Many 
thoughts  would  then  arise  in  their  minds,  and 
wander  out  over  the  parish.  To-day  the  guests 
were  all  assembled  at  Nordhoug.  It  was  a 
couple  of  days  after  the  wedding,  but  as  the 
festivities  were  to  last  six  days,  there  reached 
them  every  now  and  then  the  report  of  a  gun, 
and  the  voices  of  those  who  could  shout  the 
loudest. 

"  They  are  having  a  merry  time  there,"  re- 
marked Ingrid. 

"  I  do  not  envy  them,"  said  Synnove,  and 
took  up  her  knitting. 

"  Still  it  would  be  interesting  to  be  there," 
said  Ingrid,  who  was  sitting  on  her  heels,  and 
looking  toward  the  gard,  where  the  people  were 
walking  to  and  fro  among  the  houses,  —  some 
going  toward  the  store-house,  where  probably 
tables  of  refreshments  were  spread,  others  in 
pairs,  separated  from  the  rest,  in  confidential 
conversation. 

"  I  do  not  quite  know  what  there  is  to  de- 
sire over  there,"  said  Synnove. 

"  I   scarcely  know  myself,"   replied   Ingrid, 


90  SYNNOVE   SOLBAKKEN. 

who  sat  as  before.  "  I  suppose  it  must  be  the 
dancing,"  she  added. 

Synnove  made  no  reply  to  this. 

"  Have  you  never  danced?"  asked  Ingrid. 

"No." 

"  Do  you  think,  then,  that  dancing  is  a  sin  ?  " 

"  I  really  do  not  know." 

Ingrid  said  nothing  more  upon  the  subject 
just  then,  for  she  remembered  that  the  Hau- 
gians  strictly  forbade  dancing,  and  she  did  not 
care  to  inquire  further  into  the  position  Syn- 
nove's  parents  took  with  her  in  this  particular. 
But  whatever  train  of  thought  she  might  have 
fallen  into,  she  said,  presently,  "A  better  dancer 
than  Thorbjorn  I  have  never  seen." 

Synnove  paused  a  while  before  she  said, 
"  Yes,  he  is  said  to  dance  well." 

"  You  should  see  him  dance  ! "  burst  out  In- 
grid, turning  toward  her. 

But  Synnove  answered  abruptly,  "  No,  I  do 
not  wish  to  see  that."  Ingrid  was  a  little  sur- 
prised at  this.  Synnove  bent  over  her  knit- 
ting, and  began  to  count  the  stitches.  Sud- 
denly she  let  her  knitting  fall  in  her  lap,  gazed 
vacantly  before  her,  and  said,  "  So  intensely 
happy,  though,  as  I  am  to-day,  I  have  not  been 
for  a  long  time." 

"  Why  ?  "  inquired  Ingrid. 


SYNNOVE   SOLBAKKEN.  91 

"  Oh  —  because  lie  is  not  dancing  at  Nord- 
houg  to-day." 

Ingrid  sat  lost  in  her  own  thoughts.  "  Well, 
there  are,  no  doubt,  many  girls  who  would  like 
to  have  him  there,"  said  she. 

Synnove  parted  her  lips  as  though  she  were 
about  to  speak,  but  she  did  not  utter  a  word, 
knit  off  the  last  stitch  of  a  needle,  and  began 
on  another. 

"  Thorbjorn  probably  longs  to  be  there  him- 
self ;  I  feel  sure  of  that,"  said  Ingrid ;  but  did 
not,  until  it  was  too  late,  consider  what  she  had 
said,  and  looked  at  Synnove,  who  sat  there  over 
her  knitting,  blushing  crimson. 

Now  Ingrid  was  able  to  take  a  hasty  review 
of  the  whole  conversation ;  she  clasped  her 
hands,  moved  on  her  knees  over  the  heather 
until  she  brought  herself  in  front  of  her,  and 
began  to  look  Synnove  squarely  in  the  face ; 
but  Synnove  went  on  knitting. 

Then  Ingrid  laughed,  and  said,  "  Now,  for 
many  a  long  day  you  have  been  hiding  some- 
thing from  me,  again." 

"  What  do  you  say  ?  "  asked  Synnove,  and 
cast  a  questioning  look  at  her. 

"  You  are  not  angry  because  Thorbjorn 
dances,"  said  Ingrid,  laughing  as  before.  The 
other  did  not  answer.     Ingrid's   face  was  one 


92  synnOve  solbakken. 

broad  smile,  and  now  she  put  her  arms  about 
Synnove's  neck,  and  whispered  in  her  ear, 
"But  you  are  angry  because  he  dances  with 
others  than  you  !  " 

"How  you  do  talk!"  said  Synnove,  tore 
herself  away,  and  arose.  Ingrid  got  up  also, 
and  followed  her. 

"  It  is  a  pity  that  you  cannot  dance,  Syn- 
nove," said  she,  and  laughed,  —  "  really  a  great 
pity  !  Come,  now,  I  might  just  as  well  teach 
you  at  once  !  " 

She  took  Synnove  by  the  waist. 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  ? "  inquired 
Synnove. 

"  Teach  you  to  dance,  that  you  may  not  have 
such  sorrow  in  the  world  as  to  have  him  dance 
with  others  than  you  !  " 

Now  Synnove  too  had  to  laugh,  or  at  least 
make  a  show  of  lauffhinsj. 

"  Some  one  might  see  us,"  said  she. 

"  Bless  you  for  that  answer,  stupid  as  it  was," 
replied  Ingrid,  and  began  forthwith  to  sing 
"  tra-la-la,"  and  move  Synnove  round  in  step 
to  it. 

"  No,  no  !     It  is  not  possible  !  " 

"  You  have  not  been  so  happy  for  many  a 
day,  you  said  a  while  ago.     Now,  come  !  " 

"  If  it  only  were  possible  !  " 


SYNNOVE   SOLBAKKEN.  93 

"  Just  try,  and  you  will  see  that  it  is  possi- 
ble ! " 

"  You  are  so  giddy,  In  grid ! " 

"  That  is  just  what  the  cat  said  to  the  spar- 
row, when  the  sparrow  would  not  stand  still 
and  let  the  cat  catch  him.     Come,  now  ! " 

"  Indeed,  I  actually  feel  inclined  to,  myself 
but"  — 

"Now  I  am  Thorbjorn,  and  you  are  his 
young  wife,  who  will  not  have  him  dance  with 
any  one  but  yourself." 

"But"  — 

Ingrid  sang  again  "tra-la-la." 

"  But "  —  Synnove  still  insisted ;  yet  she  was 
already  dancing !  It  was  a  spring-dance,  and 
Ingrid  went  on  in  advance  with  great  strides 
and  manly  swing  of  the  arms;  Synnove  fol- 
lowed with  short  steps  and  downcast  eyes*  — 
and  Ingrid  sang  :  — 

"  The  fox  once  lay  'neath  the  birch-tree's  root, 
By  the  heather  ; 
The  hare  came  hopping  there,  on  tripping  foot, 
O'er  the  heather. 
1  Well,  this,  indeed,  is  a  sunny  day, 
And  glitt'ring  beams  all  around  here  play, 
O'er  the  heather.' 

"  The  fox  then  laughed  in  his  quiet  lair, 
By  the  heather ; 
In  wanton  mood  came  frolicking  the  hare, 
O'er  the  heather. 


94  SYNNOVE   SOLBAKKEN. 

'  I  feel  so  glad  over  everything, 
Heigho  !  —  but  jtou  make  a  daring  spring, 
O'er  the  heather.' 

"  The  fox  lay  quietly  waiting  there, 
By  the  heather; 
And  tumbling  right  toward  him  came  the  hare, 

O'er  the  heather. 
'  Good  gracious !  why,  is  that  you,  my  dear  ? 
Pray,  how  can  you  dare  come  dancing  here 
O'er  the  heather  ?  '  "  1 

"  There  !  was  it  not  possible?"  asked  Ingrid 
as  they  paused,  out  of  breath. 

Synnove  laughed,  and  declared  she  would 
like  better  to  waltz.  "  Why,  there  is  nothing 
in  the  way  of  that,"  observed  Ingrid,  and  they 
prepared  for  it  at  once  by  Ingrid  showing  her 
how  she  should  place  her  feet;  "for  waltzing  is 
difficult,"  said  she. 

"  Oh,  it  is  easy  enough,  if  we  can  only  keep 
time,"  said  Synnove ;  and  so  Ingrid  suggested 
that  they  should  try. 

So  they  did,  Ingrid  singing  and  Synnove 
joining  in,  at  first  only  humming,  then  aloud. 
But  suddenly  Ingrid  paused,  let  go  of  her, 
and  clasped  her  hands  in  sheer  astonishment. 
"  Why,  you  can  waltz  !  "  she  broke  out. 

"  Hush  !  Do  not  let  us  talk  about  it  any 
more,"  said  Synnove,  and  again  took  hold  of 
Ingrid  to  continue. 

1  Auber  Forestier's  translation. 


SYNNOVE   SOLBAKKEN.  95 

"But  where  did  you  learn  "  — 

"Tra-la-la,  tra-la-la!"  and  Synnove  swung 
In  grid  round. 

Then  Insrid  danced  to  her  heart's  content, 
while  singing,  — 

"See,  sunbeams  dance  on  old  Haukelid  high; 
Dance,  my  sweetheart,  for  shades  of  evening  draw  nigh ! 
The  stream  now  leaps  tow'rd  the  glitt'ring  wave ; 
Leap,  too,  rollicking  youth,  leap  on  to  thy  grave ! 
See,  birch-trees  bend  to  the  wind's  giddy  play ; 
Bend,  thou  confident  maid !     What  now  did  give  way  ? 
See"i  — 

What  curious  songs  you  are  singing  ! "  said 
Synnove,  and  stopped  dancing. 

"  I  do  not  know  what  I  am  singing ;  I  have 
heard  Thorbjorn  sing  them." 

"  They  are  Slave  Bent's  songs,"  said  Syn- 
nove.    "  I  know  them." 

"Are  they?"  asked  Ingrid,  and  felt  a  little 
uneasy.  She  sat  with  her  eyes  fixed  on  the 
ground,  and  said  nothing.  All  at  once  her 
attention  was  drawn  to  some  one  down  on  the 
road  below.  "  Say,  there  is  some  one  driving 
down  from  Granliden,  and  taking  the  parish 
road!" 

Synnove  looked  that  way,  too.  "  Is  it  he  ?  ' 
asked  she. 

"  Yes,  it  is  Thorbjorn  ;  he  is  going  to  town." 

1  Auber  Forestier's  translation. 


96  synnove  solbakken. 

It  was  Tkorbjorn,  and  he  was  driving  to 
town.  It  was  a  long  distance  off.  He  had  a 
heavy  load,  and  therefore  drove  leisurely  along 
the  dusty  road.  This  was  so  situated  that  it 
could  be  seen  from  the  sseter,  and  when  he 
heard  the  shouting  from  above  he  knew  who 
was  there  stood  up  on  his  load  and  shouted 
back  again,  so  that  it  resounded  through  the 
mountains.  Then  the  loor  was  played  down  to 
him  ;  he  sat  and  listened,  and  when  it  stopped 
he  stood  up  again  and  shouted.  This  continued 
as  he  drove  on,  and  it  put  him  in  high  spirits. 
He  looked  at  Solbakken,  and  thought  it  had 
never  had  so  much  sun  as  now.  But  while  he 
sat  there  looking  at  it,  he  entirely  forgot  his 
driving,  so  that  the  horse  went  its  own  way. 
Suddenly  he  was  startled  by  its  making  a  great 
spring  to  one  side,  so  that  one  thill  cracked,  and 
off  went  the  horse  in  a  wild  trot  across  the 
Nordhoug  fields ;  for  it  was  over  them  the  road 
lay.  He  stood  up  in  the  cart  and  drew  in  the 
reins.  There  arose  a  struggle  between  him  and 
the  horse;  it  was  about  dashing  over  a  precipice, 
and  he  held  it  back.  He  got  it  so  far  that  it 
reared,  and  then  he  sprang  down,  and  before  the 
horse  could  start  on  again  lie  had  caught  hold  of 
a  tree  ;  now  the  horse  was  forced  to  stand  still. 
The  load  was  overturned,  one  thill  broken,  and 


STATt  NUHNtAL  i>unuuL, 
Los  Angeles, 

SYNNOVE   SOLBAKKEN.  97 

the  horse  stood  and  shivered.  Thorbjorn  went 
forward  to  the  animal,  took  it  by  the  bridle, 
and  spoke  gently  to  it ;  he  at  once  turned  it, 
to  make  sure  of  avoiding  the  precipice  if  it 
should  start  off  again.  Stand  still  it  could  not, 
so  terrified  was  it,  and  he  was  compelled  to  fol- 
low it,  running  along,  farther  and  farther  on, 
straight  up  to  the  road  again.  He  thus  passed 
directly  by  his  own  things,  which  lay  over- 
turned ;  the  pails  and  tubs  broken,  and  their 
contents  partly  destroyed.  Hitherto  he  had 
thought  only  of  the  danger ;  now  he  began  to 
consider  the  consequences,  and  waxed  wroth.  It 
was  plain  to  him  that  there  would  be  no  trip  to 
town  that  day,  and  the  more  he  reflected  upon 
it  the  more  vexed  he  became.  Reaching  the 
road,  the  horse  gave  another  jump,  then  tried 
with  one  bound  to  tear  itself  loose  ;  and  now 
Thorbjorn's  anger  broke  out.  While  he  held 
the  bridle  with  his  left  hand,  with  the  great 
riding-whip  in  his  right,  he  gave  the  horse 
lash  after  lash,  lash  after  lash,  on  its  flanks, 
until  it  was  so  maddened  that  it  struck  out  at 
his  breast  with  its  fore-feet.  But  he  held  it 
off  from  him,  and  beat  it  now  harder  than  be- 
fore, with  all  his  might,  and  using  the  butt  end 
of  his  whip. 

"  I  will  teach  you,  you  obstinate    scamp  !  " 
7 


98  SYNNOVE   SOLBAKKEN. 

and  he  struck.  The  horse  neighed  and  whin- 
nied ;  he  struck.  "  Ha  !  you  shall  make  the 
acquaintance  of  a  fist  that  is  strong  ! "  and  he 
struck.  The  horse  snorted  until  the  foam 
rolled  down  over  his  hand ;  but  he  struck. 
"  This  shall  be  the  first  and  last  time,  you  crip- 
ple !  There  !  Once  more  !  So  !  Ho,  you 
worthless  nag,  you  shall  learn  how  a  man  can 
punish  !  "  and  he  struck. 

Meanwhile,  they  had  turned  ;  the  horse  had 
ceased  to  offer  any  resistance,  quivered  and 
quaked  under  every  blow,  and  crouched,  neigh- 
ing, whenever  it  saw  the  whip  approaching. 
Then  Thorbjorn  became  rather  ashamed;  he 
paused.  At  the  same  time  he  espied  a  man, 
who  sat  on  the  edge  of  a  ditch  by  the  road- 
side, leaning  on  his  elbow,  and  laughing  at 
him.  He  knew  not  how  it  happened  ;  it  grew 
dark  before  his  eyes,  and,  holding  the  horse  by 
one  hand,  he  started  toward  the  man  with  up- 
lifted whip.  "  I  will  give  you  something  to 
laugh  at  ! "  he  shouted.  The  blow  fell,  but 
it  half  missed  its  mark,  for  with  a  shriek  the 
man  rolled  down  into  the  ditch.  There  he  re- 
mained standing  on  all  fours,  but  he  raised  his 
head,  squinted  at  Thorbjorn,  puckered  up  his 
mouth  as  for  laughter ;  yet  the  sound  of  laugh- 
ter was  not  heard.     Thorbjorn  was  startled,  for 


SYNNOVE   SOLBAKKEN.  99 

this   face   lie  had   seen   before.      Yes,    it   was 
Aslak. 

Thorbjorn  did  not  know  why,  but  there  ran 
a  cold  shiver  down  his  back.  "  I  suppose  it 
was  you  who  frightened  the  horse  both  times," 
said  he. 

"  Why,  I  was  only  lying  there  asleep,"  an- 
swered  Aslak,  and  drew  himself  up  a  little ; 
"  and  you  woke  me  when  you  got  so  frantic 
over  your  horse." 

"  It  was  you  who  made  the  horse  frantic. 
All  animals  are  afraid  of  you,"  and  he  patted 
the  horse,  from  whom  the  sweat  was  pouring 
in  streams. 

"  I  should  think  he  would  be  more  afraid  of 
you  now  than  of  me.  I  have  never  acted  so  to 
any  horse,"  said  Aslak,  who  was  now  bolt-up- 
right on  his  knees  in  the  ditch. 

"  Do  not  use  too  strong  language,"  said 
Thorbjorn,  and  shook  his  whip  menacingly. 

Aslak  arose  then,  and  scrambled  up  out  of 
the  ditch. 

"  I,  you  say,  —  I  use  strong  language  ?  No  !  " 
"  Where  were  you  going,  that  you  were  driving 
so  fast?"  said  he,  in  a  bland  voice,  as  he  ap- 
proached Thorbjorn,  but  staggered  from  side 
to  side,  for  he  was  drunk. 

"I  shall  not  have  much  chance  of  going  be- 


100  SYNNOVE   SOLBAKKEN. 

yond  here  to-day,"  said  Thorbjorn,  who  was 
unhitching  his  horse. 

"  That  is  really  provoking,"  said  Aslak  ;  and 
he  drew  still  nearer,  touching  his  hat  as  he  did 
so.  "  Lord  bless  me !  "  said  he.  "  Such  a  great 
fine  fellow  you  have  grown  to  be,  since  last  I 
saw  you ! " 

With  both  fists  in  his  pockets,  he  stood,  as 
well  as  he  could,  contemplating  Thorbjorn,  who 
could  not  get  his  horse  loose  from  the  wreck 
of  the  cart.  Thorbjorn  needed  help,  but  he 
could  not  bring  himself  to  ask  it  of  this  fellow ; 
for  Aslak  looked  ugly :  his  clothes  were  soiled 
from  the  ditch,  his  hair  hung  in  matted  tangles 
from  under  a  glossy  hat  that  was  pretty  old, 
and  the  face,  although  partly  the  well-known 
one  of  old,  was  now  distorted  into  one  contin- 
ual broad  grin,  the  eyes  were  still  more  closed 
than  ever,  so  that  he  had  to  throw  his  head  a 
little  back  and  open  his  mouth  a  little,  when 
he  looked  at  any  one.  His  features  had  be- 
come flabby,  his  whole  form  rigid  ;  for  Aslak 
drank.  Thorbjorn  had  seen  him  frequently  be- 
fore, which  Aslak  did  not  let  on  that  he  knew. 
As  a  peddler,  he  had  been  in  the  habit  of  going 
the  rounds  of  the  parish,  and  was  fond  of  being 
where  there  was  any  merry-making,  as  he  had 
many  songs  to  sing,  told  a  good  story,  and  got 


SYNNOVE   SOLBAKKEN.  101 

his  brandy  in  return.  Thus  he  had  now  been 
at  the  Nordhoug  wedding,  but  had,  as  Thor- 
bjorn afterwards  learned,  found  it  wise  to  absent 
himself  for  a  tirm.,  as  he  had,  according  to  an 
old  trick  of  his,  stirred  the  people  up  to  a  fight, 
and  it  threatened  to  break  over  his  own  head. 

"  You  might  just  as  well  fasten  him  to  the 
cart  as  try  to  get  him  loose  from  it,"  said  he. 
"You  will  have  to  go  up  to  Nordhoug,  any  way, 
to  get  things  put  in  order  again." 

Thorbjorn  had,  no  doubt,  thought  the  same, 
but  would  have  preferred  not  to  think  so. 
"  There  is  a  great  wedding  up  there,"  said  he. 

"  So  much  greater  the  help,"  replied  Aslak. 

Thorbjorn  stood  somewhat  irresolute  ;  but 
without  aid  he  could  neither  get  forward  nor 
backward,  and  so  it  was  best  to  go  up  to  the 
gard.  He  fastened  his  horse  for  the  time,  and 
started.  Aslak  followed.  Thorbjorn  looked 
back  at  him. 

"  So  I  go  back  to  the  wedding  in  good  com- 
pany," said  Aslak,  and  laughed.  Thorbjorn 
made  no  reply,  but  walked  fast.  Aslak  came 
on  behind,  singing,  — 

"  Two  peasants  once  fared  to  the  wedding  feast,"  etc., — 

an  old,  well-known  ballad.  "  I  say,  you  are 
walking  fast,"  said  he,  presently.  "  You  will 
get  there,  any  way,"  he  added. 


102  SYNNOVE   SOLBAKKEN. 

Thorbjorn  made  no  reply. 

Sounds  of  dancing  and  music  met  them. 
Faces  were  visible  peering  out  at  them  through 
the  open  windows  in  the  great  two-story  build- 
ing. Groups  gathered  together  outside.  He 
saw  that  they  vvere  querying  among  themselves 
as  to  who  the  new-comers  could  be  ;  presently, 
that  he  was  recognized,  and  that  by  degrees 
they  descried  the  horse  down  yonder,  and  the 
pails  and  tubs  which  lay  scattered  over  the 
ground.  The  dancing  ceased  ;  the  whole  crowd 
swarmed  out  into  the  gard  just  as  Thorbjorn 
and  Aslak  came  up. 

"  Here  comes  an  unwilling  wedding  guest !  " 
cried  Aslak,  as  he  finally  approached  the  group, 
behind  Thorbjorn. 

The  people  greeted  Thorbjorn,  and  speedily 
encircled  him. 

"  God  bless  the  gathering  !  Good  ale  on  the 
table,  pretty  women  on  the  floor,  and  good  fid- 
dlers on  the  stool!  "  cried  Aslak,  pushing  him- 
self, as  he  spoke,  right  into  their  midst. 

Some  laughed,  others  looked  grave ;  one  said, 
"Aslak.  the  peddler,  is  always  in  good  spirits."' 

Thorbjorn  at  once  found  acquaintances,  whom 
he  had  to  tell  about  his  accident  ;  they  would 
not  allow  him  to  go  himself  after  his  horse 
and   things,  but    bade   others  go.     The   bride- 


SYNNOVE   SOLBAKKEN.  103 

groom,  a  young  man,  and  former  school-mate, 
asked  him  in  to  taste  of  the  wedding-  brewing ; 
and  now  they  passed  on  into  the  house.  Some 
wanted  to  continue  the  dancing,  especially  the 
women;  others  wished  to  have  a  little  time  for 
drinking,  and  to  get  Aslak  to  tell  them  stories, 
since  he  had  now  returned  to  the  gard  again,  in 
spite  of  everything. 

"  But  you  will  have  to  be  a  little  more  on 
your  guard  than  last  time,"  one  added. 

Thorbjorn  inquired  where  all  the  people 
were. 

"  Oh,"  was  the  reply,  "  there  was  a  little 
disturbance  here  a  while  ago  ;  now  some  have 
gone  to  rest,  others  are  over  yonder  in  the  barn, 
playing  cards,  and  some  are  sitting  where  Knucl 
Nordhoug  is." 

He  did  not  ask  where  Knud  Nordhoug  was. 

The  bridegroom's  father,  an  old  man,  who 
sat  smoking  a  clay  pipe  and  drinking  ale,  now 
said,  "  Come,  out  with  a  yarn,  you  Aslak  !  It 
will  be  entertaining  for  once." 

"  Are  there  others  who  ask  me  ?  "  inquired 
Aslak,  who  had  seated  himself  astride  a  stool, 
a  little  distance  from  the  table,  around  which 
several  others  sat. 

"  Yes,  to  be  sure,"  said  the  bridegroom,  and 
gave  him  a  dram  ;  "  now  I  ask  you." 


104  SYNNOVE   SOLBAKKEN. 

"  Are  there  many  who  ask  in  this  way  ?  " 
said  Aslak. 

"  It  may  be,"  said  a  young  woman  over  on  a 
side  bench,  and  offered  him  a  stoup  of  wine. 
It  was  the  bride,  a  woman  of  about  twenty 
years  of  age,  light  complexioned,  but  very  thin 
and  haggard,  with  large  eyes,  and  rigid  lines 
about  the  mouth.  "  I  like  your  stories  very 
well,"  she  added. 

The  bridegroom  looked  at  her,  and  his  father 
looked  at  him. 

"  Yes,  Nordhoug  folks  have  always  liked  my 
yarns  !  "  said  Aslak.  "  Honor  be  to  them  !  " 
he  exclaimed,  and  drained  a  glass  which  was 
handed  him  by  one  of  the  groomsmen. 

"Come,  then,  out  with  something!"  shouted 
several. 

"  About  Sigrid,  the  gypsy  woman,"  cried  one. 

"  No,  that  is  awful !  "  said  others,  especially 
women. 

"  About  the  battle  of  Lier  !  "  begged  Svend, 
the  drummer. 

"  No  ;  rather  something  amusing  !  "  then  said 
a  very  erect  lad,  who  stood  in  his  shirt  sleeves, 
leaning  up  against  the  wall,  while  his  right 
band,  which  hung  relaxed  at  his  side,  rather  too 
frequently  found  its  way  into  the  hair  of  some 
young  girls  who  sat  near  him.  They  scolded, 
but  they  did  not  stir. 


SYXXOVE   SOLBAKKEN.  105 

"  Yes,  that  is  what  I  will  tell,  —  yes,  I  will," 
said  Aslak. 

"  The  deuce !  "  muttered  an  elderly  man, 
who  lay  across  the  bed  smoking.  One  leg  hung 
down  ;  with  the  other  he  kept  kicking  a  fine 
jacket,  which  hung  over  the  bed-post. 

"  Let  my  jacket  alone  !  "  called  out  the  lad 
who  stood  up  against  the  wall. 

"  Let  my  daughters  alone  !  "  rejoined  he  who 
lay  on  the  bed. 

Now  the  girls  moved  away. 

"  Ho,  I  will  tell  what  I  please  !  "'  cried 
Aslak.  "For  the  brandy  cup  stirs  the  courage 
up!"  said  he,  clapping  together  the  palms  of 
bis  hands. 

"  Tell  us  what  we  please,"  reiterated  the  man 
on  the  bed ;  "  for  the  brandy  is  ours." 

"What  does  that  signify?"  inquired  Aslak, 
with  wide-opened  eyes. 

"  Oh,  the  pig  we  fatten  we  kill,  too,"  an- 
swered the  man,  dangling  his  leg. 

Aslak  closed  his  eyes,  but  sat  still,  without 
changing  the  position  of  his  head ;  then  it  fell 
on  his  breast,  and  he  was  silent.  Several  spoke 
to  him,  but  he  did  not  hear  them.  "  The 
brandy  has  got  the  better  of  him,"  said  he  who 
lay  on  the  bed. 

Presently,  Aslak   looked   up,  once  more  as- 


106  SYNNOVE   SOLBAKKEN. 

sumed  his  usual  smile,  and  remarked,  "  Yes, 
now  you  shall  hear  a  jovial  tale.  Lord  bless 
me  !  how  jovial !  "  said  he,  after  a  while,  open- 
ing wide  his  mouth  as  though  he  were  laughing, 
without  any  sound  of  laughter  being  heard. 

"  He  is  really  in  fine  spirits  to-day,"  said  the 
bridgroom's  father. 

"  Yes,  indeed,  he  is!  "  cried  Aslak.  "  A  glass 
before  starting,  then  !  "  said  he,  and  stretched 
out  his  hand. 

It  was  handed  him.  He  drained  it  slowly, 
held  his  head  a  little  back  with  the  last  drop  in 
his  mouth,  then  swallowed  it,  and,  turning  to 
him  on  the  bed,  said,  "  There,  now,  I  am  your 
pig !  "  and  laughed  as  before.  He  clasped  his 
hands  about  his  knee,  and  thus  raised  his  foot 
up  and  down,  while  he  himself  rocked  to  and 
fro,  and  then  he  began  :  — 

"  Well,  once  there  was  a  girl  who  lived  off 
in  a  valley.  What  the  valley  was  called  does 
not  matter,  nor  what  the  girl's  name  was.  But 
the  girl  was  pretty;  so  thought  the  owner  of  the 
^ard  at  —  hist !  —  and  it  was  at  his  place  she 
served.  She  received  good  wages,  she  did,  and 
she  got  more  than  she  should  have  had,  —  she 
got  a  child.  Folks  said  that  it  was  by  him ;  but 
he  did  not  say  so,  for  he  was  married,  nor  did 
ehe  say  so,  for  she  was  proud,  the  poor  wretch. 


SYNNOVE   SOLBAKKEN.  107 

So  there  was,  no  doubt,  a  lie  told  at  the  christ- 
ening ;  and  the  child  she  had  brought  into  the 
world  was  an  outcast  of  a  boy,  so  that  it  really 
did  not  matter  if  he  was  christened  in  a  lie.  A 
tenant  house  down  below  the  gard  was  given 
to  her,  which  the  wife  at  the  gard  did  not  like, 
as  might  have  been  expected.  Whenever  the 
girl  came  up  there  she  spit  after  her,  and  when 
the  little  lad  of  hers  came  to  play  with  the 
gard-boys  she  told  them  to  drive  the  bastard 
away  ;  he  deserved  nothing  better,  she  said. 

"  The  wife  begged  her  husband,  both  by 
night  and  by  day,  to  turn  the  wretched  girl  on 
the  parish.  The  man  resisted  so  long  as  there 
was  anything  of  a  man  left  in  him  ;  but  at  last 
he  fell  to  drinking,  and  then  his  wife  got  the 
upper  hand.  After  that  the  poor  wretch  had  a 
hard  time  of  it ;  every  year  it  grew  worse,  and 
got  so  at  last  that  she  was  on  the  verge  of  starv- 
ing to  death,  with  her  little  boy,  who  would  not 
go  away  from  his  mother. 

"  So  it  continued,  year  after  year,  until  eight 
of  them  had  passed  by ;  still  the  girl  had  not 
left  the  place,  although  now  she  was  forced  to 
go  away.  And  so  she  went.  But  first  the 
entire  gard  was  in  a  fine  blaze,  and  the  man 
ourned  to  death,  for  he  was  drunk.  The  wife 
Baved  herself  and  the  children,  and  she  said  it 


108  SYNNOVE   SOLBAKKEN. 

was  that  miserable  girl  down  at  the  tenant 
house  who  had  kindled  the  fire.  It  might  be 
that  this  was  so.  And  it  might  also  be  other- 
wise. That  was  a  singular  boy  of  hers.  For 
eight  years  he  had  seen  his  mother  roughing 
it,  and  knew  well  where  the  fault  lay,  for  she 
had  often  told  him  when  he  asked  why  she  was 
always  crying.  She  had  done  so  the  day  be- 
fore she  was  to  leave,  and  that  was  why  he  had 
gone  off  at  night.  But  she  was  imprisoned  for 
life,  because  she  told  the  judge  herself  that  it 
was  she  who  had  made  the  fine  blaze  up  at  the 
gard.  The  boy  lived  on  the  parish,  and  got 
help  from  everybody,  because  he  had  such  a 
wicked  mother.  Then  he  left  this  parish,  and 
went  far  away  to  another,  where  he  did  not 
receive  much  aid,  for  there  he  found  no  one 
who  knew  what  a  wicked  mother  he  had.  I 
do  not  think  he  told  of  it  himself.  The  last  I 
heard  of  him  he  was  drunk,  and  they  say  he 
has  given  himself  up  to  drink  of  late  :  whether 
this  be  true  or  not  shall  remain  unsaid  ;  but  it 
is  true  that  I  do  not  know  what  better  he  could 
do.  He  is  a  bad,  wicked  fellow,  that  is  certain ; 
he  does  not  love  people,  loves  them  still  less 
when  they  are  good  to  one  another,  and  least 
of  all  when  they  are  good  to  him.  And  he 
wants  others  to  be  like  himself,  although    he 


SYNNOVE    SOLBAKKEN.  109 

says  so  onl}7  when  he  is  drunk.  And  then  he 
cries,  too,  cries  so  that  it  hails,  about  nothing 
in  the  world  ;  for  what  should  he  have  to  cry 
about  ?  He  has  not  stolen  a  shilling  from  any 
one,  nor  done  a  single  one  of  the  wild  things 
many  others  do;  so  he  really  has  nothing  to  cry 
about.  Nevertheless,  he  does  cry,  and  cries  so 
that  it  hails.  And  if  you  should  see  him  cry 
never  believe  in  it,  for  it  is  only  when  he  is 
drunk,  and  then  he  is  not  to  be  noticed." 

Here  Aslak  fell  back  on  the  stool  in  a.  loud  fit 
of  weeping,  which  was  soon  over,  for  he  dropped 
asleep. 

"  Now  the  swine  is  drunk,"  said  the  man  on 
the  bed ;  "  that  is  the  way  he  always  lies  blub- 
bering in  his  sleep." 

"  That  was  horrid,"  said  the  women,  and 
arose  to  go  away. 

"  I  have  never  heard  him  tell  anything  dif- 
ferent when  he  was  allowed  to  choose  for  him- 
self," now  said  an  old  man,  over  by  the  door, 
getting  up.  "  The  Lord  knows  why  folks  will 
listen  to  him,"  he  added,  looking  at  the  bride. 


CHAPTER  V. 

Some  went  out ;  others  tried  to  get  the  fid- 
dler to  come  in  again,  that  the  dancing  might 
begin  ;  but  the  fiddler  was  asleep  in  a  corner 
of  the  passage,  and  a  few  begged  for  him  that 
he  might  be  left  in  peace.  "  Since  Lars,  his 
comrade,"  they  said,  "  was  hurt  in  the  fight, 
Ole  had  been  obliged  to  hold  out  over  twenty- 
four  hours." 

The  men  had  arrived  at  the  gard  with  Thor- 
bjorn's  horse  and  things ;  his  horse  was  hitched 
to  another  cart,  since,  in  spite  of  all  urging,  he 
would  insist  on  going  again.  It  was  the  bride- 
groom, in  especial,  who  tried  to  detain  him. 
"  There  may,  perhaps,  not  be  as  much  happi- 
ness for  me  here  as  it  would  seem,"  said  he ; 
and  this  suggested  a  thought  to  Thorbjorn  ; 
but  he  nevertheless  resolved  to  leave  before 
evening  came.  When  they  saw  that  he  was 
firm,  they  scattered  over  the  grounds  ;  there 
were  many  people  present,  but  there  was  an 
oppressive  stillness,  and,  indeed,  little  appear- 
ance of  a  wedding.     Thorbjorn  needed  a  new 


SYNNOVE   SOLBAKKEN.  Ill 

harness-pin,  and  went  off  to  find  one  ;  at  the 
•gar'd  there  was  no  suitable  material,  and  so  he 
went  a  little  outside,  and  came  to  a  wood-shed, 
which  he  entered  slowly  and  quietly,  for  the 
words  of  the  bridegroom  haunted  him.  He 
found  what  he  wanted,  but  furthermore,  with- 
out being  conscious  of  what  he  was  doing,  he 
seated  himself  against  the  one  wall,  with  a 
knife  and  the  pin  in  his  hand.  Then  he  heard 
a  groaning  near  by  ;  it  was  on  the  other  side 
of  the  thin  wall,  in  the  carriage-house,  and 
Thorbjorn  listened. 

"  Is  that  —  really  —  you?"  he  heard,  uttered 
with  a  long  interval  between  the  words,  and  by 
a  man  who  spoke  with  difficulty.  Then  he 
heard  some  one  weeping,  but  that  was  not  a 
man. 

"  Oh,  why  did  you  come  here  ?  "  was  asked ; 
and  it  must  have  been  by  the  one  who  was 
weeping,  for  the  voice  choked  with  tears. 

"  Hm  !  At  whose  wedding  should  I  play,  if 
it  was  not  at  yours  ?  "  said  the  first. 

"  It  must  be  Lars,  the  fiddler,  who  lies  there," 
thought  Thorbjorn.  Lars  was  a  strong,  hand- 
some fellow,  whose  old  mother  was  tenant  of  a 
houseman's  place,  belonging  to  the  gard.  But 
the  other  must  be  the  bride. 

"  Why  have  you  never  spoken? "  said  she,  in 


112  SYNNOVE   SOLBAKKEN. 

a  smothered  voice,  but  slowly,  as  though  deeply 
moved.  • 

"  I  did  not  think  it  was  necessary,  between 
us  two,"  was  his  short  answer. 

There  was  silence  for  a  while ;  then  she  be- 
gan again  :  "  You  knew,  though,  that  he  came 
to  see  me." 

"  I  thought  you  were  stronger." 

He  heard  nothing  now  but  weeping ;  finally, 
she  burst  out  once  more,  "  Why  did  you  not 
speak  ? " 

"  It  would  have  been  of  little  use  for  old 
Birthe's  son  to  speak  to  the  daughter  of  Nord- 
houg,"  was  answered,  after  a  pause,  during 
which  he  drew  his  breath  heavily,  and  often 
groaned.     A  reply  was  waited  for. 

"  We  have  had  our  eyes  on  each  other  for 
many  a  year,"  came  at  last. 

"  You  were  so  proud,  I  did  not  exactly  dare 
speak  to  you.  Yet  there  was  nothing  in  the 
world  I  desired  more.  I  expected  every  day 
—  when  we  met  —  I  thought  the  next  time 
I  would  offer  myself.  Then  I  thought  you 
slighted  me." 

All  was  still  again.  Thorbjorn  heard  no 
reply,  no  weeping  ;  nor  did  he  even  hear  the 
sick  man's  breathing. 

Thorbjorn  thought  of  the  bridegroom,  whom 


SYNNOVE    SOLBAKKEN.  113 

he  believed  to  be  a  worthy  man,  and  he  felt 
troubled  for  him.  Then  she,  too,  said,  "I  am 
afraid  he  will  have  little  happiness  in  me,  — 
he,  who  "  — 

"He  is  a  good  man,"  said  the  sick  one,  and 
began  to  break  down  again,  for  his  chest,  no 
doubt,  pained  him. 

It  seemed  as  though  this  gave  her  pain,  too, 
for  she  said,  "It  is  pretty  hard  for  you  now 
—  but  —  we  would  most  likely  never  have 
chanced  to  talk  together,  had  not  this  thing 
happened.  When  you  struck  Knud,  I  under- 
stood you  for  the  first  time." 

"  I  could  bear  it  no  longer,"  said  he ;  and 
then,  presently,  "  Knud  is  base." 

"  He  is  not  good,"  said  Knud's  sister. 

They  were  silent  for  a  while  ;  then  he  said, 
"  I  wonder  if  I  shall  ever  get  over  this.  Ah, 
well,  though,  it  is  all  one  now." 

"  If  you  have  a  hard  time,  it  is  worse  for 
me,"  and  hereupon  followed  convulsive  weep- 
ing. 

"  Are  you  going  ?  "  asked  he. 

"  Yes,"  was  the  reply  ;  and  then,  "  Ah,  woe, 
woe  is  me  !     What  a  life  this  will  be  !  " 

"  Do  not  cry  so  !  "  said  he.  "  The  Lord  will 
soon  put  an  end  to  it  for  me,  and  then  you 
shall  see  that  it  will  be  better  for  you,  too." 


114  SYNNOVE   SOLBAKKEN. 

"  Alas,  alas,  if  you  had  only  spoken  ! "  she 
cried,  in  a  suppressed  voice,  and  as  though  she 
were  wringing  her  hands. 

Thorbjorn  thought  she  must  either  have  gone 
away  at  the  same  time,  or  at  least  be  unable  to 
talk  longer ;  for  he  heard  nothing  for  a  while, 
and  went  away. 

Of  the  first  person  he  met  in  the  gard  Thor- 
bjorn asked,  "  What  has  happened  between 
Lars,  the  fiddler,  and  Knud  Nordhoug  ?  " 

"Ha!  Between  them?  Well,"  said  Per, 
the  houseman,  wrinkling  his  face  as  though  he 
wanted  to  hide  something  in  the  folds,  "you 
may  well  ask,  for  it  was  little  enough  :  Knud 
only  inquired  of  Lars  whether  his  fiddle  gave 
out  good  tones  at  this  wedding." 

Just  then  the  bride  went  past  them.  She  had 
her  face  averted,  but  when  she  heard  Lars  men- 
tioned she  turned  it,  and  showed  them  a  pair  of 
large  red  eyes,  which  were  unsteady  in  their 
gaze ;  otherwise  her  countenance  was  very  cold, 
so  cold  that  Thorbjorn  did  not  recognize  her 
words  again  in  it.  He  began  then  to  under- 
stand more. 

Farther  on  in  the  gard  the  horse  stood  wait- 
ing. Thorbjorn  fastened  in  his  pin,  and  looked 
around  for  the  bridegroom,  in  order  to  take  his 
leave.     He  did  not  feel  like  searching  for  him 


SYXNOVE   SOLBAKKEN.  115 

Boon  saw  that  lie  was  not  coming,  and  took  his 
seat  upon  the  cart.  Then  there  was  heard  the 
sound  of  noisy  talking  and  shouting  on  the  left 
side  of  the  gard,  over  in  the  direction  of  the 
barn.  There  was  a  great  crowd  pouring  out  of 
the  barn  ;  a  large  man,  who  walked  on  in  ad- 
vance, was  crying,  "  Where  is  he  ?  Is  he  hid- 
ing ?     Where  is  he  ?  " 

"  There,  there ! "  said  some. 

"  Do  not  let  him  come  here,"  said  others ; 
"  only  mischief  will  arise  from  it." 

"  Is  that  Knud  ? "  inquired  Thorbjorn  of  a 
little  boy  who  stood  at  the  side  of  his  cart. 

"  Yes ;  he  is  drunk,  and  when  he  is  he  always 
wants  to  fight." 

Thorbjorn  was  already  seated  on  his  load,  and 
now  he  whipped  up  his  horse. 

"  No,  stop,  comrade  !  "  he  heard  behind  him. 
He  reined  in  his  horse,  but  as  it  started  off  in 
spite  of  this,  he  let  it  go.  "  Ho !  Are  you 
afraid,  Thorbjorn  Granliden  ? "  was  shouted 
nearer  him.  Now  he  reined  in  still  more  firmly, 
but  did  not  look  back. 

"  Get  down  now,  and  come  into  good  com- 
pany !  "  some  one  cried. 

Thorbjorn  turned  his  head.  "  Thank  you,  I 
must  go  home,"  said  he. 

Now  they  consulted  together  a  little,  and  im- 


116  SYNNOVE   SOLBAKKEN. 

mediately  the  whole  crowd  flocked  to  the  cart. 
Knud  went  forwai'd  to  the  horse  ;  he  first 
patted  it,  then  took  it  by  the  head  to  look  at 
it.  Knud  was  very  tall ;  had  light  but  straight 
hair,  and  a  snub  nose ;  the  mouth  was  large 
and  heavy  ;  his  eyes  were  light  blue,  but  bold. 
He  bore  little  resemblance  to  his  sister ;  yet 
there  was  something  about  the  mouth  which 
was  similar,  and  he  had  the  same  kind  of  square 
forehead,  but  smaller,  although  all  her  fine 
features  were  coarse  with  him. 

"  What  will  you  take  for  your  nag?"  asked 
Knud. 

"  I  do  not  want  to  sell  it,"  said  Thorbjorn. 

"  You  think,  perhaps,  I  cannot  pay  for  it," 
said  Knud. 

"  I  do  not  know  whether  you  can  or  not." 

"  So  ?  You  doubt  it  ?  You  had  better  take 
care,"  said  Knud. 

The  lad  who  had  stood  against  the  wall  in 
the  house  fingering  the  hair  of  those  girls  now 
said  to  a  neighbor,  "  Knud  really  does  not  dare 
this  time." 

This  Knud  heard.  "I  dare  not?  Who  says 
bo  ?     I  dare  not  ?  "  he  shrieked. 

More  and  more  came  flocking  up.  "  Make 
way  !  See  the  horse  !  "  shouted  Thorbjorn,  and 
sracked  his  whip  ;  he  wanted  to  start. 


SYNNOVE  solbakken.  117 

"Are  you  saying  '  make  way'  to  me?"  asked 
Knud. 

"  I  spoke  to  the  horse ;  I  must  go  on,"  said 
Thorbjorn,  but  did  not  turn  aside  himself, 
either. 

"What!  will  you  drive  right  over  me?" 
asked  Knud. 

"  Then  move  away !  "  and  the  horse  had  to 
throw  back  his  head,  else  it  would  have  seut  it 
right  against  Knud's  breast.  Then  Knud  took 
the  horse  by  the  bridle,  and  the  animal  that 
remembered  being  held  so  on  the  road,  began 
to  tremble.  This,  however,  touched  Thorbjorn, 
who  repented  what  he  had  done  to  the  horse  ; 
now  he  vented  his  feelings  on  Knud  ;  for  he 
started  up  with  the  whip  in  his  hand,  and  gave 
Knud  a  blow  on  the  head. 

"  Do  you  strike  ?  "  shrieked  Knud,  and  came 
nearer.     Thorbjorn  sprang  from  the  load. 

"  You  are  a  villain  !  "  said  he,  pale  as  death, 
and  threw  the  reins  to  the  lad  from  the  house, 
as  he  had  come  forward  and  offered  his  serv- 
ices. 

But  the  old  man  who  had  risen  from  his 
seat  over  by  the  door,  when  Aslak  was  through 
with  his  story,  now  approached  Thorbjorn,  and 
pulled  him  by  the  arm.  "  Saemund  Granliden 
is  too  good  a  man  to  have  his  son  fight  wit*» 
such  a  bully,"  said  he. 


118  SYNNOVE   SOLBAKKEN. 

This  quieted  Thorbjorn  down,  but  Knud 
shouted,  "la  bully  ?  That  he  is  as  well  as  I, 
and  my  father  is  just  as  good  as  his !  Come 
on  !  It  is  absurd  that  the  parish  folks  do  not 
know  which  of  us  two  is  the  champion,"  he 
added,  and  pulled  off  his  neck-tie. 

"  We  will  test  that  soon  enough,"  said  Thor- 
bjorn. 

Then  the  man  who  had  been  lying  on  the 
bed  before  said,  "  They  are  like  two  cats  ;  they 
have  to  growl  courage  into  each  other,  both  of 
them." 

Thorbjorn  heard  this,  but  made  no  reply. 
One  and  another  of  the  crowd  laughed  ;  others 
said  it  was  abominable  to  have  all  these  fights 
at  this  wedding,  and  to  pick  a  quarrel  with  a 
stranger,  who  wanted  to  go  away  peaceably. 
Thorbjorn  looked  around  for  his  horse  ;  it  was 
his  intention  to  drive  off.  But  the  lad  who 
had  taken  charge  of  it  had  turned  it  round,  and 
led  it  away  quite  a  distance;  the  lad  himself 
stood  just  behind  them. 

"  What  are  you  looking  for  ?  "  asked  Knud. 
"  Synnove  is  a  long  way  off  now." 

"  What  is  she  to  you  ?  " 

"  Nothing.  Such  hypocritical  women-folks 
are  nothing  to  me,"  said  Knud.  "But  perhaps 
it  is  she  who  has  stolen  your  courage  away." 


SYNNOVE   SOLBAKKEN.  119 

This  was  too  much  for  Thorbjorn  ;  they  no- 
ticed that  he  glanced  around,  to  make  sure  of 
the  lay  of  the  ground.  Now  some  of  the  older 
people  interfered,  and  remarked  that  Knud  had 
done  mischief  enough  for  this  wedding. 

"  He  shall  do  me  none  !  "  said  Thorbjorn ; 
and  when  they  heard  this  they  were  silent. 

Others  said,  "  Let  them  wrestle,  and  then 
they  will  be  good  friends  ;  these  two  have  long 
enough  been  throwing  spiteful  glances  at  each 
other." 

"  Yes,"  said  one,  "  they  both  want  to  be  first 
in  the  parish  ;  let  us  see  how  it  is." 

"  Have  you  people  seen  anything  of  a  certain 
Thorbjorn  Granliden  about  here  ? "  remarked 
Knud.  "  I  thought  he  was  at  the  gard,  just 
now. 

"  Yes,  here  he  is,"  said  Thorbjorn,  and  at  the 
same  time  he  gave  Knud  a  blow  on  the  right 
ear  that  sent  him  reeling  against  some  men 
who  stood  there.  Now  all  was  still.  Knud  got 
up  again,  and  darted  forward,  without  saying  a 
word.  Thorbjorn  was  ready  for  him.  There 
now  followed  a  long  hand-to-hand  fight,  each 
trying  to  get  at  the  other  ;  but  both  were  well 
accustomed  to  hold  off  an  opponent.  Thor- 
bjorn's  blows  fell  rather  oftener,  and  some  said 
were  somewhat  more  severe. 


120  SYNNOVE   SOLBAKKEN. 

"  There,  Knud  has  found  his  man,"  said  he 
who  had  taken  the  horse.     Make  way !  " 

The  women  fled  ;  only  one  stood  high  up  on 
a  step,  in  order  to  see  better  ;  it  was  the  bride. 
Thorbjb'rn  caught  a  glimpse  of  her,  and  hesi- 
tated a  little  ;  then  he  saw  a  knife  in  Knud's 
hand,  remembered  her  saying  that  Knud  was 
not  good,  and  with  a  well-aimed  blow  he  hit 
Knud's  arm  on  the  wrist,  making  the  knife 
drop,  and  paralyzing  the  arm. 

"  Oh,  how  you  hit  !  "  said  Knud. 

"  Do  you  think  so?  "  said  the  other,  and  now 
rushed  at  him. 

Knud  was  at  a  disadvantage,  having  the  use 
of  only  one  arm ,  he  was  lifted  up  and  borne  on, 
but  he  made  resistance  before  he  was  pros- 
trated. He  was  several  times  thrown  to  the 
ground,  with  such  force  that  any  one  else 
would  have  yielded,  but  his  was  a  good  back. 
Thorbjorn  moved  on  with  Knud ;  the  people 
gave  way,  but  Thorbjorn  kept  coming  on  with 
him  ;  and  thus  it  continued  around  the  entire 
gard,  until  they  came  to  the  steps,  where  Thor- 
bjorn tossed  Knud  once  more  into  the  air,  and 
(lung  him  down  with  such  violence  that  his 
knees  gave  way,  and  Knud  fell  across  the  stone 
slab,  so  that  it  sang  within  him.  He  lay  there 
without  stirring,  gave  vent  to   a   deep  groan 


SYNNOVE   SOLBAKKEN.  121 

and  closed  his  eyes;  Thorbjorn  straightened 
himself,  and  looked  up  ;  his  eyes  fell  directly 
on  the  bride,  who  stood  motionless,  and  looked 
on.  "  Take  something  and  lay  it  under  his 
head,"  said  she,  turned,  and  went  in. 

Two  old  women  went  by ;  one  of  them  said 
to  the  other,  "  Good  God  !  there  lies  some  one 
again  !     Who  is  it  now  ?  " 

A  man  answered,  "  It  is  Knud  Nordhoug." 

Then  the  older  woman  said,  "  Well,  perhaps 
there  will  be  less  of  fighting  after  this.  They 
might  have  some  other  use  to  put  their  strength 
to." 

"  That  was  a  true  word  you  said,  Randi," 
said  the  first.  "  The  Lord  help  them  on  so 
far  that  they  can  look  beyond  one  another,  and 
up  to  something  better.'1'' 

This  had  a  curious  effect  on  Thorbjorn's 
mind ;  he  had  not  uttered  a  word,  but  still 
stood  motionless,  watching  those  who  were 
busied  with  Knud.  Several  spoke  to  him,  but 
he  made  no  reply.  He  turned  away  from 
them,  and  fell  into  a  reverie  ;  Synnove  was  up- 
permost in  it,  and  he  became  much  ashamed. 
He  wondered  what  explanation  he  should  give 
her,  and  he  thought  that  it  was,  after  all,  not 
so  easy  for  him  to  stop  fighting  as  he  had  be- 
lieved.    Just  then,  he  heard  some  one  behind 


122  SYNNOVE   SOLBAKKEN. 

him  say,  "  Beware,  Thorbjorn  !  "  but  before  he 
could  turn,  he  was  seized  by  the  shoulders  from 
behind,  was  bent  down,  and  felt  nothing  but  a 
burning  pain,  the  locality  of  which  he  did  not 
precisely  know.  He  heard  voices  about  him ; 
was  conscious  that  some  one  was  driving ;  even 
thought,  at  times,  that  he  was  driving  himself, 
but  was  not  sure  of  it. 

This  lasted  a  very  long  time.  It  grew  cold, 
soon  warm  again,  and  then  he  felt  so  light,  so 
light,  that  he  seemed  to  be  floating.  And  now 
he  understood  it :  he  was  borne  on  the  tree- 
tops,  from  one  to  the  other,  and  thus  went  up 
the  slope  ;  higher  up,  as  far  as  the  sseter  ;  still 
higher  up,  as  far  as  the  highest  mountain. 
There  Synnove  bowed  over  him,  and  wept,  and 
said  that  he  should  have  spoken.  She  wept 
sorely,  and  said  that  he  must  have  seen,  him- 
self, how  Knud  Nordhoug  got  in  his  way,  con- 
tinually in  his  way,  and  so  she  was  obliged  to 
take  Knud.  And  then  she  stroked  him  gently 
down  one  side,  so  that  it  grew  warm  there,  and 
she  wept  until  his  clothes  became  wet  in  the 
place  where  her  tears  fell.  But  Aslak  sat  on 
his  heels  upon  a  great  peaked  stone,  and  set 
fire  to  the  tree-tops  round  about  him,  so  that 
they  crackled  and  burned,  and  the  twigs  drifted 
about  him  ;  then  he  laughed,  with  wide  gaping 


SYNNOVE   SOLBAKKEN.  123 

mouth,  and  said,  "  It  is  not  I,  it  is  my  mother, 
who  is  doing  this  !  "  And  SaBmund,  his  father, 
stood  a  little  to  one  side,  and  tossed  up  bags  of 
grain  so  high  that  the  clouds  drew  them  up  to 
themselves,  and  spread  out  the  grain  like  a 
mist;  and  it  seemed  strange  to  him  that  the 
grain  could  float  out  over  the  whole  sky.  When 
he  looked  over  at  Ssemund  himself,  the  latter 
had  grown  so  small,  so  very  small,  that  at  last 
he  scarcely  reached  above  the  ground  ;  but  still 
he  went  on  tossing  the  bags  up  higher  and 
higher,  and  said,  "Do  that  like  me,  if  you 
can !  "  Far  away,  in  the  clouds,  was  the  church, 
and  the  fair  woman  from  Solbakken  stood  up 
in  the  steeple,  waving  an  orange-colored  hand- 
kerchief in  one  hand  and  a  hymn-book  in  the 
other,  and  said,  "  Hither  you  shall  not  come, 
until  you  have  laid  aside  fighting  and  swear- 
iner."  And  when  he  came  to  look  there,  it  was 
not  the  church,  but  Solbakken,  and  the  sun 
shone  so  brightly  on  all  the  hundred  window- 
panes  that  it  hurt  his  eyes,  and  he  had  to  close 
them  tight. 

"  Take  care,  take  care,  Soemund  !  "  he  heard, 
and  was  awakened  as  though  from  slumber  by 
beino;  carried  onward-  and  when  he  looked 
about  him  he  had  come  into  the  family-room 
ut  Granliden.     A   great  fire  was   burning   on 


124  SYNNOVE   SOLBAKKEN. 

the  hearth  ;  his  mother  stood  beside  him  and 
wept;  his  father  just  then  put  his  hands  under 
him ;  he  wanted  to  carry  him  into  a  side  room. 
Then  his  father  laid  him  gently  down  again. 
"  There  is  still  life  in  him  !  "  said  he,  with  a 
quivering  voice,  and  turned  to  the  mother. 

She  burst  out,  "  The  Lord  help  me !  he  is 
looking  up !  Thorbjorn,  Thorbjorn !  My 
blessed  boy,  what  have  they  done  to  you  ? " 
and  she  bent  over  him  and  stroked  his  cheek, 
while  her  warm  tears  fell  on  his  face. 

Ssemund  wiped  his  eyes  with  one  arm,  then 
drew  the  mother  tenderly  aside.  "  I  might  just 
as  well  take  him  at  once,"  said  he;  and  he  took 
firm  hold  under  the  shoulders  with  one  hand, 
and  a  little  farther  down  the  back  with  the 
other.  "  You  hold  his  head,  mother,  if  he  has 
not  strength  to  carry  it  himself."  She  walked 
on  before  and  supported  his  head ;  Samund 
tried  to  keep  step  with  her,  and  soon  Thor- 
bjorn lay  on  the  bed  in  the  other  room.  After 
they  had  covered  him  and  placed  him  just  right, 
Ssemund  asked  whether  the  boy  had  started. 

"  There  he  is  !  "  said  the  mother,  and  pointed 
toward  the  window. 

Ssemund  opened  the  window,  and  called  out, 
"  If  you  are  there  in  an  hour  you  shall  have 
your  year's  wages  doubled !  It  does  not  mat> 
ter  if  you  break  the  horse's  wind." 


SYNNOVE   SOLBAKKEN.  125 

He  went  over  to  the  bed  again.  Thorbjorn 
fixed  on  hirn  his  large  clear  eyes ;  the  father 
was  forced  to  return  the  gaze,  and  then  his  own 
grew  moist.  "  I  knew  it  would  end  so,"  said 
he  softly,  turned  and  went  out. 

The  mother  sat  on  a  stool  at  the  foot  of  the 
bed  and  wept,  but  she  did  not  speak.  Thor- 
bjorn wanted  to  talk,  but  he  felt  that  it  was 
difficult,  and  therefore  he  was  silent.  But  he 
stared  incessantly  at  his  mother,  and  she  had 
never  seen  such  lustre  in  his  eyes,  nor  had  they 
ever  been  so  beautiful,  which  seemed  to  her  a 
bad  omen.  "  May  the  Lord  help  you  ! "  she 
burst  out,  at  last.  "  I  know  that  Saemund  will 
break  down  completely  the  day  you  leave  us." 
Thorbjorn  looked  at  her  with  immovable  eyes 
and  face.  That  look  went  right  through  her, 
and  she  began  to  say  the  Lord's  Prayer  for 
him  ;  for  she  thought  his  time  might  be  short. 
While  she  sat  there  it  ran  through  her  mind 
how  dear  he,  beyond  the  others,  had  been  to 
them  all ;  and  now  none  of  his  brothers  and 
sisters  were  at  home.  She  sent  word  up  to  the 
sseter  for  Ingrid  and  a  younger  brother  ;  then 
came  back  and  seated  herself  as  before.  He 
still  looked  at  her,  and  that  look  was  to  her  a 
psalm,  which  gently  guided  her  thoughts  to  bet- 
ter things  ;  and  old  Ingebjorg  grew  very  devout, 


126  SYNNOVE   SOLBAKKEN. 

brought  forth  the  Bible,  and  said,  "  Now  I  will 
read  aloud  to  you,  and  it  will  do  you  good." 
And  as  she  had  no  spectacles  at  hand  she  opened 
at  a  place  that  she  had  nearly  known  by  heart 
since  she  was  a  girl,  and  this  was  in  the  Gospel 
of  John.  She  was  not  sure  that  he  heard  her  ; 
for  he  lay  motionless  as  before,  merely  staring 
at  her ;  but  still  she  read  on,  if  not  for  him,  at 
least  for  herself. 

Ingrid  soon  came  home  to  relieve  her  in  the 
watch  ;  but  then  Thorbjorn  was  asleep.  Ingrid 
wept  without  ceasing  ;  she  had  commenced  cry- 
ing before  she  left  the  sseter,  for  she  thought  of 
Synnove,  to  whom  nothing  had  been  told.  Now 
the  doctor  came  and  examined  him.  He  had 
been  stabbed  with  a  knife  in  the  side,  had  been 
beaten  besides  ;  but  the  doctor  said  nothing,  and 
thei*e  was  no  one  who  questioned  him.  Sse- 
mund  went  with  him  into  the  sick-room,  stood 
there  watching  uninterruptedly  the  doctor's  face, 
went  out  when  he  went,  helped  him  up  in  his 
cariole,  and  touched  his  cap  when  the  doctor 
said  he  would  come  again  the  following  day. 
Then  Saemund  turned  to  his  wife,  who  had  ac- 
companied him  :  "  When  that  man  does  not 
opeak,  it  is  alarming."  His  mouth  quivered ; 
he  turned  on  his  heel,  and  went  away  across 
the  field. 


SYNNOVE    SOLBAKKEN.  127 

No  one  knew  what  became  of  him  ;  for  he 
did  not  come  home  that  evening,  nor  in  the 
night  either,  but  appeared  first  the  next  morn- 
ing; and  then  he  seemed  so  gloomy  that  no 
one  dared  ask  him  anything.  He  said  him- 
self, «  Well  ?  " 

"  He  has  slept,"  said  Ingrid,  "but  he  is  so 
weak  that  he  cannot  raise  a  hand." 

The  father  wanted  to  go  in  and  look  at  him, 
but  he  turned  when  he  came  to  the  door. 

The  doctor  was  there,  and  he  came  the  next 
day,  and  several  days  in  succession.  Thorbjorn 
could,  speak,  but  was  not  allowed  to  stir.  In- 
grid sat  most  of  the  time  with  him ;  also  his 
mother  and  younger  brother ;  but  he  did  not 
ask  them  about  any  tiling,  nor  they  him.  The 
father  was  never  in  there.  This  they  saw  the 
patient  noticed  ;  every  time  the  door  opened  lie 
grew  attentive,  and  they  thought  it  must  be  be- 
cause he  was  expecting  his  father.  At  last  In- 
grid asked  if  he  would  not  like  to  see  others  of 
'lie  family.  "  Oh,  they  most  likely  do  not  want 
to  see  me,"  replied  he.  This  was  told,  to  See- 
mund,  who  made  no  immediate  reply  ;  but  that 
day  he  was  away  when  the  doctor  came.  When 
the  doctor  had  proceeded  a  piece  along  the  road, 
he  saw  Saemund,  who  sat  by  the  wayside  wait- 
ing for  him.  After  having  greeted  him,  Sas- 
tnund  inquired  about  his  son. 


128  SYNNOVE   SOLBAKKEN. 

"  He  lias  been  roughly  handled,"  was  the 
short  reply. 

"  Will  he  get  over  it  ?  "  asked  Saemund,  and 
fell  to  adjusting  the  horse's  saddle-girth. 

"  Thank  you,  that  is  all  right,"  said  the  doc- 
toif. 

"  It  was  not  tight  enough,"  replied  Saemund. 

There  was  a  brief  silence,  in  which  the  doc- 
tor looked  at  him ;  but  Saemund  was  zealously 
tightening  the  girth,  and  did  not  look  up. 

"  You  asked  whether  he  would  get  over  it ; 
yes,  I  think  he  will,"  said  the  doctor,  slowly. 

Saemund  glanced  up,  hastily.  "  Is  there  hope 
of  life?"  asked  he. 

"  There  has  been  for  several  days,"  replied 
the  doctor. 

Then  a  few  tears  trickled  down  from  Sae- 
mund's  eyes ;  he  strove  to  brush  them  away, 
but  they  came  again.  "  It  is  really  a  shame 
that  I  am  so  fond  of  the  lad,"  he  gasped ;  "  but 
you  see,  doctor,  a  finer  fellow  there  has  never 
been  in  the  parish  !  " 

The  doctor  was  touched.  "  Why  have  you 
not  wished  to  know  anything  before  ? "  he 
asked. 

"  I  have  not  had  the  courage  to  hear  it,"  re- 
plied Ssemund,  and  had  another  struggle  with 
his    tears,    which    he   could    not   force    back 


synnove  solbakken.  129 

"  And  then  there  were  the  women-folks,"  he 
continued  ;  "  they  were  constantly  on  the  look- 
out to  see  whether  I  would  ask,  and  then  I 
could  not."  The  doctor  gave  him  time  to  com 
pose  himself,  and  then  Stem  and  looked  fixedly 
at  him.  "  Will  he  get  his  health  back  again  ?  " 
asked  he,  suddenly. 

"  In  a  certain  way,  although  we  cannot  yet 
be  sure  of  it." 

Then  Saemund  grew  calm  and  thoughtful. 
"  In  a  certain  way,"  he  muttered.  He  stood 
looking  down,  and  the  doctor  would  not  disturb 
him,  because  there  was  something  about  the 
man  which  forbade  it.  Suddenly  Saemund 
raised  his  head.  "  Thank  you  for  the  informa- 
tion," said  he,  held  out  his  hand,  and  started 
for  home. 

Meanwhile,  Ingrid  was  sitting  with  the  pa- 
tient. "If  you  feel  able  to  listen,  I  will  tell 
you  something  about  father,"  said  she. 

"Tell  me,"  replied  Thorbjorn. 

"  "Well,  then,  the  first  evening  the  doctor  had 
been  here  father  disappeared,  and  no  one  knew 
where  he  was.  Now  it  seems  that  he  had  gone 
over  to  the  wedding-party,  and  all  the  people 
there  felt  ill  at  ease  when  he  came  in.  They 
say  that  he  sat  down  among  them  and  drank 
with  them,  and  the  bridegroom  tells  that  he 

9 


130  SYNNOVE   SOLBAKKEN. 

thinks  he  grew  half  tipsy.  Then  first  he  began 
to  question  about  the  fight,  and  got  the  full 
particulars  as  to  how  it  had  happened.  '  Knud 
came  in ;  father  wanted  to  have  him  tell  all 
about  it,  and  made  him  go  with  him  out  to  the 
spot  where  you  two  wrestled.  All  the  people 
went  with  them.  Knud  then  told  how  you  had 
treated  him  after  you  had  lamed  his  hand  ;  but 
when  Knud  did  not  want  to  say  anything  more, 
father  drew  himself  up,  and  asked  if  this  was 
the  way  it  went  on  afterward^  —  and  at  the 
same  time  he  seized  Knud  about  the  chest, 
raised  him,  and  laid  him  down  on  the  stone, 
which  still  had  your  blood  on  it.  He  held  him 
down  with  his  left  hand,  and  drew  out  his  knife 
with  the  right.  Knud  changed  color,  and  all 
the  guests  were  silent.  There  were  people 
there  who  saw  father  shed  tears,  but  he  did 
nothing  to  Knud.  Knud  himself  did  not  stir. 
Father  then  lifted  Knud  up,  but  laid  him  down 
again  after  a  while.  'It  is  hard  to  let  you  go,' 
he  said,  and  stood  staring  at  him,  while  he  still 
held  him. 

"  Two  old  women  went  past,  and  one  of  them 
said,  '  Think  of  your  children,  Sremund  Gran- 
liden  ! '  They  say  that  father  at  once  let  go  of 
Knud,  and  that  pretty  soon  after  he  was  gone 
from  the    gard ;    but   Knud    left    the  wedding, 


SYNXOVE   SOLBAKKEX.  131 

made  his  way  on  from  house  to  house,  and  was 
Been  there  no  more." 

Scarcely  was  Tngrid  through  with  her  narra- 
tion when  the  door  opened;  some  one  looked 
in,  and  it  was  the  father.  She  went  out  at 
once,  and  Sasmund  came  in.  What  father  and 
son  then  talked  about  no  one  ever  knew ;  the 
mother,  who  stood  up  against  the  door  that  she 
might  listen,  thought  once  that  she  heard  them 
speaking  about  whether  Thorbjorn  could  re- 
cover his  health  or  not.  But  she  was  not  sure 
of  it,  nor  did  she  like  to  go  in  as  long  as  Sse- 
mund  was  there. 

"When  Ssemund  came  out  he  was  very  gentle, 
and  rather  red  about  the  eyes.  "  He  will  be 
spared  to  us,"  he  said  to  Ingebjorg,  as  he  passed 
by ;  "  but  the  Lord  only  knows  whether  he  will 
get  his  health  back  again."  Ingebjorg  began 
to  cry,  and  went  out  with  her  husband ;  on  the 
store-house  steps  they  sat  down,  side  by  side, 
and  many  things  were  talked  over  between  the 
two. 

But  when  Ingrid  came  softly  in  again  to 
Thorbjorn,  he  lay  there  with  a  little  note  in  one 
hand,  and  said  calmly  and  slowly,  "  This  you 
may  give  to  Synnove  the  next  time  you  see 
her." 

When  Ingrid  had  read  what  was  in  it  she 


132  SYNNOVE   SOLBAKKEN. 

turned    away   and   wept;    for    the    note    ran 
thus :  — 

"  To   the  highly  esteemed    maiden,    Synnove,    Guttorm's 
daughter,  Solbakken :  — 

"  When  you  have  read  these  lines,  all  must 
be  over  between  us  two.    For  I  am  not  the  one 
you  ought  to  have.    The  Lord  be  with  us  both. 
"  Thorbjorn,  S-emund's  son,  Granliden." 


CHAPTER   VI. 

Synnove  had  learned  of  the  disaster  the  day 
after  Thorbjorn  had  been  at  the  wedding.  His 
younger  brother  had  been  sent  up  to  the  saeter 
with  word  about  it ;  but  Ingrid  had  detained 
him  out  in  the  passage,  just  as  he  was  starting, 
and  had  charged  him  with  what  he  was  to  say. 
Synnove,  therefore,  only  knew  that  Thorbjorn 
had  overturned  his  load,  and  that  he  therefore 
had  been  obliged  to  go  up  to  Nordhoug  for 
help ;  that  Knud  and  he  had  met,  and  that 
Thorbjorn  had  been  somewhat  hurt.  He  was  in 
bed,  but  it  was  nothing  dangerous.  This  was 
news  calculated  to  make  Synnove  more  vexed 
than  alarmed.  And  the  more  she  thought 
about  it,  the  more  disheartened  she  became. 
Whatever  he  might  promise,  he  was  sure  to  act 
so  that  her  parents  would  have  some  fault  to 
find  with  him.  But  they  two  ought  not  to  be 
separated  now,  any  way,  thought  Synnove. 

There  were  not  many  messages  sent  up  to 
the  sseter,  and  so  time  dragged  before  Synnove 
got  further  news.     The  uncertainty   weighed 


134  SYNNOVE   SOLBAKKEN. 

heavily  upon  her  mind,  and  as  Ingrid  did  not 
come  back  again,  there  must  be  something 
amiss.  She  was  not  able  to  sing  the  cattle 
home  in  the  evening,  as  she  had  been  in  the 
habit  of  doing,  and  she  did  not  sleep  well  at 
night,  for  she  missed  Ingrid.  The  effect  of 
this  was  that  she  felt  weary  by  day,  and  this 
did  not  make  her  heart  any  lighter.  She  went 
about  her  daily  duties,  scoured  the  wooden 
pans  and  bowls,  made  the  cheese,  and  prepared 
the  curds,  but  took  little  satisfaction  in  it ;  and 
both  Thorbjorn's  younger  brother  and  the  lad 
who  tended  the  herds  with  him  felt  sure  now 
that  there  must  be  something  between  her  and 
Thorbjorn,  which  furnished  them  with  a  theme 
for  many  conversations  up  in  the  pasture. 

The  afternoon  of  the  eighth  clay  after  Ingrid 
had  been  summoned  home  she  felt  more  op- 
pressed than  ever.  So  long  a  time  had  now 
passed  away,  and  still  no  tidings.  She  left  her 
work  to  sit  clown  and  gaze  over  the  parish,  for 
this  seemed  to  her  a  sort  of  company,  and  she 
did  not  want  to  be  alone  now.  As  she  sat 
there,  she  grew  very  tired,  laid  her  head  down 
on  her  arm,  and  directly  fell  asleep;  but  the 
sun  scorched,  and  it  was  a  restless  sleep.  She 
was  over  at  Solbakken,  up  in  the  loft,  where 
her  things  were,  and  where  she  used  to  sleep 


SYNNOVE   SOLBAKKEN.  135 

from  the  flowers  in  the  garden  there  was  wafted 
np  a  most  delicious  fragrance,  although  not 
that  which  she  was  accustomed  to,  but  some- 
thing different,  almost  like  that  of  heather. 
"  What  can  this  come  from  ?  "  she  thought,  and 
bowed  her  head  clown  out  of  the  open  window. 
Yes,  truly,  there  stood  Thorbjorn,  down  in  the 
garden,  planting  heather.  "  Why,  my  dear, 
what  are  you  doing  ?  "  asked  she.  "  Oh,  the 
flowers  will  not  grow,"  replied  he,  and  went  on 
working  in  the  garden.  This  made  her  sorry 
for  the  flowers,  and  she  finally  begged  him  to 
bring  them  up  to  her.  "  Yes,  I  will,  if  you 
wish,"  said  he,  and  then  he  gathered  them  up, 
and  came  toward  the  house  with  them.  But 
she  did  not  seem  to  be  in  the  loft  any  more,  for 
he  could  come  right  in  to  where  she  was.  At 
that  moment  her  mother  appeared.  "  Good  gra- 
cious !  Is  that  horrid  Granlid  boy  coming  in 
here  to  you  ?  "  cried  the  mother,  as  she  sprang 
forward,  and  stationed  herself  directly  in  his 
way.  But  he  insisted  upon  coming  in,  not- 
withstanding this ;  and  now  a  struggle  arose 
between  the  two.  "  Mother,  mother !  he  is 
only  bi-inging  my  flowers  back  to  me !  "  said 
S ynnove,  beseechingly,  and  wept.  "  Oh,  that 
makes  no  difference,"  said  the  mother,  and  con- 
tinued to  struggle.     And  Synnove  was  fright- 


136  SYNNOVE   SOLBAKKEN. 

ened,  terribly  frightened,  for  she  knew  not 
which  of  them  she  wanted  to  win  ;  but  neither 
of  them  must  lose.  "  Be  careful  of  my  flow- 
ers !  "  cried  she.  But  they  struggled  now 
harder  than  ever,  and  the  pretty  flowers  were 
strewn  around  everywhere ;  the  mother  trod 
upon  them,  and  so  did  Thorbjorn.  Synnove 
wept.  But  when  Thorbjorn  had  dropped  the 
flowers,  he  looked  so  ugly,  so  very  ugly ;  his 
hair  grew,  his  face,  too ;  his  eyes  had  a  wicked 
look,  and  he  stuck  long  claws  into  her  mother. 
"  Take  care,  mother!  Do  you  not  see  that  it  is 
some  one  else,  —  take  care  !  "  she  shrieked,  and 
made  a  move  to  go  over  and  help  her  mother, 
but  she  could  not  stir  from  the  spot.  Then 
some  one  called  her,  and  called  a  second  time. 
Immediately  Thorbjorn  disappeared,  the  mother 
also.      Then  some  one  cried  again. 

"  Yes  !  "  said  Synnove,  and  awakened. 

"  Synnove  !  "  the  voice  called. 

"  Yes  ! "  answered  she,  and  looked  up. 

"  Where  are  you  ?  "  was  asked. 

"  It  is  mother  who  is  calling,"  thought  Syn- 
nove, as  she  rose,  and  went  back  toward  the 
sseter  lawn,  where  the  mother  stood,  with  a 
lunch  box  in  one  hand,  and  shading  her  eyes 
with  the  other,  looking  toward  her. 

"  You  were  actually  lying  there  asleep  on 
the  bare  ground  !  "  said  the  mother. 


synnove  solbakken.  137 

"  I  grew  so  sleepy,"  replied  Synnove,  "  that 
T  just  lay  down  for  a  little  while,  and  before  I 
knew  it  I  was  asleep." 

"  You  must  be  careful  not  to  let  such  things 
happen,  my  child.  Here  is  something  for  you 
in  this  box ;  I  baked  yesterday,  as  father  is 
going  on  a  long  journey." 

But  Synnove  felt  clearly  that  her  mother 
had  not  come  for  this,  and  she  thought  that 
she  had  not  been  dreaming  of  her  for  nothing. 
Karen  (that  was  the  mother's  name)  was,  as  has 
been  said  before,  small  of  stature  and  slender, 
had  fair  hair,  and  blue  eyes  that  were  constantly 
in  motion.  She  smiled  a  little  when  she  spoke, 
but  it  was  only  when  she  talked  with  strangers. 
Her  face  had  grown  rather  sharp.  She  was 
quick  in  her  movements,  and  was  always  busy. 
Synnove  thanked  her  for  her  gift,  took  off  the 
lid,  and  looked  to  see  what  was  in  the  box. 

"  There,  there  you  can  do  that  another  time," 
said  the  mother.  "  I  noticed  that  your  bowls 
had  not  been  washed  yet;  you  must  see  to 
ihat,  my  child,  before  you  take  your  rest." 

"  Yes  ;  but  that  has  only  happened  to-day." 

"  Come,  then,  I  must  help  you,  since  I  am 
here,"  said  the  mother,  and  rolled  up  her  skirts. 
"  You  must  accustom  yourself  to  order,  whether 
you  are  under  my  eyes  or  not." 


138  synnove  solbakken. 

She  moved  on  to  the  dairy,  and  Synnove 
followed  slowly.  They  took  every  article  out 
and  washed  it.  The  mother  then  inspected  all 
the  work,  and  found  that  it  was  not  bad  ;  gave 
much  advice  and  helped  to  clean  up ;  and  thus 
an  hour  or  two  passed.  While  they  were  work- 
ing she  told  what  was  going  on  at  home,  and 
how  busy  she  was  now  and  would  be  until  she 
got  father  off.  Then  she  asked  if  Synnove  re- 
membered to  read  the  word  of  God  before  she 
went  to  bed  at  night.  "  For  you  must  not  for- 
get that,"  she  observed,  "  or  else  the  work  will 
fare  badly  the  next  day." 

As  soon  as  they  were  through,  they  went 
out  on  the  lawn,  and  sat  down  there  to  wait 
for  the  cows.  And  when  they  were  well  seated 
the  mother  inquired  after  Ingrid,  and  asked  if 
she  was  not  soon  coming  up  to  the  dairy  again. 
Synnove  knew  no  more  about  this  than  her 
mother.  "  Aye,  to  think  that  folks  should  act 
so ! "  said  the  mother ;  and  Synnove  clearly 
understood  that  it  was  not  Ingrid  she  meant. 
She  would  have  liked  to  change  the  subject,  but 
had  not  the  courage  to  do  so.  "  They  who 
never  have  our  Lord  in  their  hearts  are  found 
out  by  Him  sometimes  when  they  are  least  ex- 
pecting it,"  continued  the  mother.  Synnove 
spoke  not  a  word.     "  Well,  this  I  have  alwaya 


SYNNOVE   SOLBAKKEN.  139 

said :  the  boy  will  never  amount  to  anything. 
But  to  act  so  —  it  is  a  shame  !  "  They  were 
sitting  side  side  by  there,  and  gazing  out  over 
the  landscape  beyond  ;  but  they  did  not  look  at 
each  other.  "  Have  you  heard  how  he  is  get- 
ting on  ?  "  asked  the  mother,  and  now  glanced 
hastily  at  her. 

"  No,"  answered  Synnove. 

"  They  say  he  is  in  a  bad  way,"  said  the 
mother. 

Synnove's  heart  grew  faint.  "Is  it,  then, 
serious  ?  "  asked  she. 

"  Oh,  he  was  stabbed  with  a  knife  in  the 
side  ;  and  then  he  had  some  pretty  severe  blows, 
besides." 

Synnove  felt  that  she  was  blushing  crimson  ; 
at  once  she  turned  a  little  more  away,  so  that 
her  mother  could  not  see  her.  "  Well,  it  is 
not  a  very  serious  matter,  I  presume  ? "  said 
she,  as  calmly  as  she  could. 

But  her  mother  had  observed  that  her  breast 
heaved  violently,  and  so  she  answered,  "  Oh, 
no.     I  cannot  say  that,  either." 

Now  Synnove  began  to  suspect  that  some- 
thing dreadful  had  happened.  "  Is  he  in  bed  ?  " 
she  asked. 

"  Why,  bless  me  !  of  course  he  is  in  bed  !  It 
is  a  pity  for  his  parents,  such  worthy  people  as 


140  SYNNOVE   SOLBAKKEN. 

they  are.  He  has  been  well  brought  up,  too, 
so  that  the  Lord  has  nothing  to  blame  them 
for."  Synnbve  was  now  so  anxious  that  she 
knew  not  what  she  should  do.  Presently  her 
mother  continued,  "  Now  it  proves  to  be  well 
that  no  one  is  bound  to  him.  The  Lord  has 
clone  everything  here  also  for  the  best."  Syn- 
nove  grew  very  dizzy,  and  it  seemed  as  though 
she  would  glide  down  the  side  of  the  mountain. 
"  Well,  I  always  said  to  father,  God  have 
mercy  on  us  !  said  I.  We  have  only  this  one 
daughter,  and  we  must  take  care  of  her.  Now 
he  is  rather  inclined  to  be  too  yielding,  excel- 
lent man  as  he  otherwise  is ;  therefore  it  is 
a  good  thing  that  he  takes  counsel  where  he 
finds  it,  and  that  is  in  the  word  of  God." 

But  at  the  mere  thought  of  her  father,  and 
how  gentle  he  always  was,  Synnove  had  still 
more  difficulty  in  forcing  down  the  tears,  and 
this  time  no  resistance  was  of  any  avail ;  she 
began  to  weep. 

"  Are  you  crying  ? "  asked  her  mother,  and 
looked  at  her,  without  being  able  to  see  her 
face. 

"  Yes ;  I  was  thinking  of  father,  and  then ' 
—  and  she  burst  out  crying,  in  good  earnest. 

"  But,  my  dear  child,  what  is  the  matter  ?" 

"  Oh,  I  do  not  really  know  !     It  came  ovei 


SYNNOVE   SOLBAKKEN.  141 

me  —  perhaps  some  harm  will  come  to  him  on 
this  journey,"  sobbed  Synnove. 

"  How  you  do  talk  !  "  said  the  mother.  "All 
should  not  go  well  with  him  ?  Going  to  town 
on  a  smooth  country  road  ?  " 

"  Yes,  but  remember  —  what  happened  —  to 
the  other,"  faltered  Synnove. 

"  To  him?  Yes  !  But  your  father  does  not 
go  dashing  ahead  like  a  fool-hardy  simpleton, 
I  should  think.  He  will  come  home  again  un- 
harmed, —  provided  the  Lord  will  watch  over 
and  guide  him." 

The  mother  began  to  get  an  idea  from  the 
weeping,  which  now  it  seemed  impossible  to 
stop.  Presently,  without  moving  from  her 
place,  she  said,  "There  are  many  things  in 
the  world  which  are  hard  to  bear,  but  we  must 
take  consolation  in  knowing  that  they  might 
be  far  worse." 

"  Aye,  but  that  is  poor  consolation,"  said 
Synnove,  and  wept  sorely. 

The  mother  did  not  really  have  the  heart 
to  answer  what  she  thought ;  she  merely  said, 
"  The  Lord  himself  ordains  many  things  for 
us  in  a  plainly  visible  way  ■  He  has  doubtless 
done  so  in  this  case  also."  And  then  she  arose, 
for  the  cows  were  beginning  to  come  lowing 
up  the  ridge,  the  bells  tinkled,  the  herd-boys 


142  SYNNOVE   SOLBAKKEN. 

shouted,  and  they  came  down  slowly,  for  the 
cows  were  well  filled  and  quiet.  She  stood 
and  looked  on  ;  then  bade  Synnove  come  with 
her  and  see  to  the  cows.  Synnove  now  arose, 
too,  and  followed  her,  but  they  went  slowly. 

Karen  Solbakken  busied  herself  with  wel- 
coming the  cattle.  The  cows  came  up  one  by 
one,  and  they  knew  her  and  lowed  ;  she  patted 
them,  talked  to  them,  and  felt  happy  when  she 
saw  how  they  had  all  improved. 

"  Ah,  yes,"  said  she,  "  the  Lord  is  near  to 
those  who  keep  themselves  near  to  Him." 

She  now  helped  Synnove  to  put  them  in  ; 
for  Synnove  made  slow  progress  to-day.  The 
mother  did  not  comment  on  this.  She  helped 
her  also  to  milk,  although  by  so  doing  she  re- 
mained up  there  longer  than  she  had  intended. 
When  they  had  finished  straining  the  milk,  the 
mother  began  to  prepare  to  go  home,  and  Syn- 
nove wanted  to  go  with  her  part  of  the  way. 

"  Oh,  no,"  said  her  mother,  "  you  are  doubt- 
less tired,  and  would  like  to  be  left  in  peace." 
And  she  took  the  empty  box,  held  out  her 
hand,  and  said,  looking  fixedly  at  her,  "  I  will 
come  up  again  soon  to  see  how  things  are  go- 
ing with  you.  Cling  to  us,  and  do  not  think 
of  others." 

Scarcely  was  the  mother  out  of  sight  before 


SYNNOVE   SOLBAKKEN.  143 

she  began  to  consider  how  she  could  most 
quickly  get  a  message  down  to  Granlid.  She 
called  Thorbjorn's  brother.  She  wanted  to  send 
him  down,  but  when  he  came  she  found  that 
it  would  be  embarrassing  to  confide  in  him,  and 
so  she  said,  "  It  was  nothing."  She  then 
thought  about  going  herself.  Certainty  she 
must  have,  and  it  was  a  pity  Ingrid  had  sent 
her  no  word.  The  night  was  quite  light,  and 
the  gard  was  not  so  far  off  but  that  she  could 
easily  walk  that  distance,  when  such  a  matter 
as  this  drew  her  down  there.  While  she  sat 
thinking  of  this,  she  summed  up  in  her  thoughts 
all  that  her  mother  had  said,  and  began  to 
weep  afresh.  But  this  time  she  was  not  slow; 
she  threw  a  kerchief  about  her,  and  took  a 
roundabout  way,  so  that  she  might  escape  the 
notice  of  the  boys. 

The  farther  she  advanced,  the  more  she  has- 
tened, and  at  last  she  sprang  down  the  foot- 
path, so  that  the  small  stones  were  loosened, 
rolled  down,  and  frightened  her.  Although 
she  knew  it  was  only  the  stones  rolling,  she 
thought  there  must  be  some  one  near  by,  and 
she  was  compelled  to  stand  still  and  listen.  It 
was  nothing,  and  she  hurried  on  faster  than  be- 
fore. Then  it  chanced  that  she  came  down  with 
a  bound  on  a  large  stone,  whose  one  end  pro- 


144  SYNNOVE   SOLBAKKEN. 

truded  into  the  road,  but  which  now  gave  way, 
dashed  on  and  past  her.  It  made  a  terrible 
racket,  the  bushes  crackled,  and  she  was  afraid, 
but  grew  still  more  so  when  she  really  fancied 
that  there  was  some  one  who  rose  and  moved 
farther  on  down  the  road.  First  she  thought 
that  it  might  be  a  wild  beast.  She  paused, 
and  held  her  breath ;  down  below  on  the  road, 
what  she  had  seen  also  paused. 

"  Hoy  !  "  cried  a  voice.     It  was  her  mother. 

The  first  thing  Synnove  did  was  to  hasten 
away  and  hide.  She  kept  still  a  good  while,  in 
order  to  find  out  whether  her  mother  had  rec- 
ognized her,  and  was  coming  back ;  but  she 
went  on.  Then  she  waited  still  longer,  in 
order  that  her  mother  might  get  well  out  of 
the  way.  When  she  started  on  again,  she 
walked  slowly,  and  was  soon  approaching  the 
houses. 

When  she  saw  these,  she  began  to  grow  op- 
pressed again,  and  she  grew  more  faint  the 
nearer  she  came  to  Thorbjorn's  home.  All 
was  still  there.  The  implements  of  labor 
stood  leaning  up  against  the  wall ;  the  wood 
was  chopped  and  piled  up,  and  the  axe  stuck 
fast  in  the  block.  She  walked  past  these, 
and  on  to  the  door  ;  there  she  paused,  looked 
around,  and  listened ;  but  nothing  stirred.     As 


synnove  solbakken.  145 

she  stood  there,  uncertain  whether  she  should 
go  up-stairs  to  Ingrid  or  not,  it  came  into  her 
mind  that  it  must  have  been  on  such  a  night, 
some  years  ago,  that  Thorbjorn  had  been  over 
and  planted  her  flowers.  Swiftly  she  pulled 
off  her  shoes,  and  stole  up  the  stairs. 

Ingrid  was  much  frightened  when  she  woke 
up,  and  saw  that  it  was  Synnove  who  had 
awakened  her.  "How  is  he  getting  on  ? " 
whispered  Synnove.  Now  Ingrid  recalled  every- 
thing, and  she  wanted  to  begin  to  dress,  in  or- 
der to  avoid  answering  Synnove  immediately. 
But  Synnove  seated  herself  on  the  edge  of  the 
bed,  begged  her  to  lie  still,  and  repeated  her 
question. 

"  He  is  better  now,"  said  Ingrid,  in  a  whis- 
per.    "  I  am  soon  coining  up  to  the  sseter." 

"  Dear  Ingrid,  hide  nothing  from  me  ;  you 
can  tell  me  nothing  so  bad  that  I  have  not  fan- 
cied something  worse." 

Ingrid  still  tried  to  spare  her,  but  Synnove's 
alarm  increased,  and  there  was  no  opportu- 
nity for  evasive  answers.  In  a  whisper  were 
dropped  the  questions,  in  a  whisper  the  an- 
swers ;  the  deep  silence  round  about  heightened 
the  seriousness  of  both  questions  and  answers, 
so  that  it  grew  to  be  one  of  those  solemn  mo- 
ments in  which  people  dare  to  look  the  worst 
10 


146  SYNNOVE   SOLBAKKEN. 

truth  directly  in  the  face.  But  this  much  they 
both  seemed  to  decide  upon,  that  Thorbjorn's 
fault  was  small  this  time,  and  that  nothing 
bad  on  his  side  intruded  itself  between  him 
and  their  sympathy  for  him.  They  both  wept 
freely,  but  quietly,  and  Synnove  wept  the  most ; 
she  sat  quite  crushed  on  the  edge  of  the  bed, 
Ingrid  tried  to  cheer  her  by  reminding  her  of 
how  much  happiness  they  three  had  had  to- 
gether ;  but,  as  is  so  often  the  case,  every  little 
remembrance  from  those  days  over  which  sun- 
shine played,  now  in  their  sorrow  melted  into 
tears. 

"  Has  he  asked  after  me  ?  "  whispered  Syn- 
nove. 

"  He  has  scarcely  spoken  at  all."  Ingrid 
now  thought  of  the  note,  and  it  began  to  weigh 
upon  her. 

"  Is  he,  then,  not  able  to  talk  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  know  how  it  is  with  him  ;  he 
probably  thinks  the  more." 

"  Does  he  read  ?  " 

"  Mother  has  read  to  him ;  now  she  has  to 
do  so  every  day." 

"  What  does  he  say  then  ?  " 

"  Oh,  he  saj'S  almost  nothing,  as  I  told  yoxi 
He  only  lies  there  and  looks." 

"  It  is  in  the  painted  chamber  he  lies  ?  " 

"  Yes." 


SYNNOVE   SOLBAKKEN.  147 

"  And  turns  his  head  toward  the  window  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

They  both  were  silent  for  a  moment ;  then 
Ingrid  said,  "  The  little  St.  John's  toy  you 
once  gave  him  hangs  in  the  window,  and  keeps 
turning  round." 

"  Yes,  it  is  the  same,"  said  Synnove,  sud- 
denly and  firmly.  "  Never  in  the  world  shall 
any  one  get  me  to  give  him  up,  whichever  way 
it  may  turn  !  " 

Ingrid  felt  greatly  distressed.  "  The  doctor 
does  not  know  whether  he  will  recover  his 
health,"  she  whispered. 

Now  Synnove  stopped  crying,  raised  her 
head,  looked  at  her  without  saying  a  word, 
then  let  it  fall  again,  and  sat  still,  lost  in 
thought ;  the  last  tears  trickled  slowly  down 
her  cheeks,  but  no  new  ones  followed  them. 
She  clasped  her  hands,  but  otherwise  did  not 
stir  ;  it  was  as  though  she  sat  there  forming  a 
great  resolve.  She  then  suddenly  arose,  with 
a  smile,  stooped  down  over  Ingrid,  and  gave 
her  a  warm,  long  kiss.  "  If  he  becomes  an 
invalid,  then  I  will  take  care  of  him.  Now 
I  will  speak  with  my  parents."  This  touched 
Ingrid  deeply  ;  but  before  she  could  find  words 
she  felt  her  hand  grasped.  "  Farewell,  Ingrid ! 
Now  I  will  go  up  alone."  And  she  turned 
away,  hastily. 


148  SYNNOVE   SOLBAKKEN. 

"  There  was  that  note,"  whispered  Ingrid 
after  her. 

"  That  note  ?  "  questioned  Synnove. 

Ingrid  was  already  up,  had  found  it,  and  went 
over  to  her  with  it ;  but  as  with  her  left  hand 
she  thrust  it  into  Synnove's  bosom,  she  put  her 
right  about  her  neck  and  kissed  her,  while  Syn- 
nove felt  her  great,  warm  tears  fall  on  her  face. 
Then  Ingrid  softly  pushed  her  out  of  the  door, 
and  closed  it ;  for  she  had  not  the  courage  to 
see  any  more. 

Synnove  went  slowly  down  the  stairs,  in  her 
stocking  feet ;  but  when  her  thoughts  became 
too  much  for  her,  she  inadvertently  made  a 
noise,  grew  alarmed,  hurried  out  of  the  pass- 
age, seized  her  shoes,  and,  with  them  in  her 
hand,  hastened  away  past  the  houses,  across 
the  fields,  and  over  to  the  gate.  Here  she 
paused,  put  them  on,  began  to  go  up  the  path, 
and  made  haste,  for  her  blood  coursed  rapidly 
through  her  veins.  She  walked  on,  singing 
softly  to  herself,  and  hurried  more  and  more, 
so  that  at  last  she  grew  weary,  and  had  to  sit 
down.    Then  she  remembered  the  note. 

When  the  shepherd  dogs  began  to  make  a 
noise  the  next  morning,  the  herd-boys  had 
awakened,  and  the  cows  were  to  be  milked  and 
set  free,  Synnove  had  not  yet  returned. 


SYNNOVE   SOLBAKKEN.  149 

As  the  boys  stood  wondering  where  she  could 
be,  and  discovered  that  she  had  not  been  in  bed 
the  whole  night,  Synnove  appeared.  She  was 
very  pale  and  quiet.  Without  a  word,  she  be- 
gan getting  breakfast  for  the  herd-boys,  put  up 
their  lunches,  and  afterwards  helped  to  milk. 

The  fog  still  hung  heavily  over  the  low 
ridges ;  the  heather  glittered  with  dew  all  over 
the  sorrel-tinted  heights.  It  was  rather  chilly, 
and  when  the  dog  barked  he  was  answered  on 
every  side.  The  cattle  were  set  free ;  lowing 
they  greeted  the  fresh  morning  air,  and  the 
cows,  one  by  one,  started  off  over  the  foot-path ; 
but  there  in  front  of  them  sat  the  dog,  ready  to 
receive  them  and  hinder  them  from  passing  un- 
til every  one  had  been  let  loose,  whereupon  he 
also  let  them  go.  The  bells  vibrated  along  the 
ridge;  the  dog  barked,  making  the  welkin  ring; 
the  herd-boys  tried  which  of  them  could  shout 
the  loudest.  From  all  this  noise  Synnove  moved 
away  down  to  that  part  of  the  seeter  where  In- 
grid  and  she  were  in  the  habit  of  sitting.  She 
did  not  weep,  sat  there  quietly  with  her  eyes 
fixed  before  her,  and  gave  heed  now  and  then 
to  the  tumultuous  noise  which  was  gradually  be- 
coming more  distant,  and  which  blended  the 
better  the  farther  away  it  got.  Meanwhile, 
she  began  to  hum  softly  to   herself,  then   to 


150  SYNNOVE    SOLBAKKEN. 

sing  louder,  and  at  last  with  a  clear,  high 
voice,  the  following  song.  She  had  adapted  it 
from  another  one  she  had  known  from  the 
time  she  was  a  child  :  — 

"Now  thanks  for  all  since  we  two  were  small, 
In  groves  we  plaj'ed,  at  each  merry-making; 
I  thought  our  sports  would  float  onward  all 
'Till  Time's  gray  twilight  was  breaking. 

"I  thought  our  sports  from  the  birch  would  rise, 

Leaf-crowned  and  glad,  and  would  upward  wander 
To  where  bright  Solbakken  meets  the  eyes, 
The  old  red  church  seeking  yonder. 

"Of  evenings  oft  I  did  sit  and  wait, 

The  spruce-grown  forest  there  watching  ever; 
The  mountains  darkened,  the  hour  grew  late, 
But  thou,  ah  thou,  earnest  never! 

"I  sat  and  waited,  and  oft  I  thought: 

When  day  declines  he  will  venture  over; 
But  fading  light  flick'ring  flashes  brought, 
The  days  they  came  and  passed  over. 

"The  weary  eye  is  accustomed  now 

To  seek  one  way,  't  would  be  slow  at  changing; 
It  burns  and  aches  here  beneath  the  brow, 
Yet  still  one  way  it  is  ranging. 

"  At  Fagerlid,  in  the  church,  they  say, 
I'll  comfort  find,  as  is  surely  fitting; 
But  ask  me  not  to  go  there,  I  pray, 
For  he,  by  my  side,  there  is  sitting. 

"And  yet  so  well  who  it  was,  I  know, 

Who  placed  our  homes  there  so  near  together, 
And  cut  a  way  for  the  eye  to  go 
Through  woods,  o'er  flowery  heather. 


SYNNOVE   SOLBAKKEN.  151 

"And  yet  so  well  who  it  was,  I  know, 

"Who  placed  the  seats  at  the  Lord's  own  table, 
And  caused  that  people  in  pairs  to  go 
Toward  the  chancel  are  able."  l 

1  Auber  Forestier's  translation. 


CHAPTER   VII. 

Some  time  after  this,  Guttorm  Solbakken 
and  Karen  sat  together  over  in  the  great,  light 
sitting-room  at  Solbakken,  and  read  aloud  to 
each  other  from  some  new  books  they  had  pro- 
cured from  the  neighboring  town.  They  had 
been  at  church  in  the  forenoon,  for  it  was  Sun- 
day ;  then  they  had  taken  a  little  walk  to- 
gether through  the  grounds  to  examine  the 
condition  of  the  fields,  and  to  consider  which 
land  should  be  allowed  to  lie  fallow  and  which 
should  be  plowed  up  for  the  next  year.  They 
had  sauntered  from  one  pasture  and  field  to  an- 
other, and  it  seemed  to  them  that  the  gard  had 
improved  greatly  in  their  time.  "  God  knows 
how  it  will  prosper  when  we  are  gone  !  "  Karen 
had  remarked.  Then  it  was  that  Guttorm  had 
begged  her  to  come  in  with  him  that  they 
might  read  in  the  new  books  ;  "  for  one  does 
best  to  avoid  such  thoughts." 

But  now  the  books  had  been  examined,  and 
Karen  was  of  opinion  that  the  old  ones  were 
better.  "  People  only  write  over  again  what 
is  in  the  old  books,"  said  she. 


synnOve  solbakken.  153 

"  There  may  be  something  in  that.  Sannund 
said  to  me  to-day  in  church  that  children  were 
only  their  parents  over  again." 

"  Yes,  you  and  Ssemund  evidently  talked  of 
many  things  to-day." 

"  Ssemund  is  a  sensible  man." 
"  But  he  seeks  his  Lord  and  Saviour  too  lit- 
tle, I  am  afraid." 

To  this  Guttorm  made  no  reply. 
"  What  became   of   Synnove  ?  "    asked   the 
mother. 

"  She  is  up-stairs,"  answered  Guttorm. 
"  You  were  sitting  there  with  her  yourself, 
a  while  ago ;  what  frame  of  mind  was  she  in  ?  " 
«  Oh  "  — 

"  You  should  not  have  allowed  her  to  stay 
there  alone." 

"  Some  one  came  in." 

The  wife  was  silent  for  a  while.  "  Pray, 
who  was  it  ?  " 

"  Ingrid  Granliden." 
"  I  thought  she  was  still  at  the  saeter." 
"  She  was  at  home  to-day  in  order  that  her 
mother  might  be  able  to  go  to  church." 

"  Yes,  to  be  sure,  we  saw  her  there  for  once." 
"  She  has  a  great  deal  to  do." 
"Others   have  the  same;  nevertheless,  one 
generally  manages  to   go  where   one  longs  to 
W 


154  SYNNOVE    SOLBAKKEN. 

Guttorm  made  no  reply  to  this. 

After  a  while  Karen  said,  "  All  the  Granlid 
family  were  there  to-day  except  Ingrid." 

"  Yes,  it  was  probably  to  accompany  Thor- 
bjorn  the  first  time." 

"  He  looked  poorly." 

"  No  better  could  be  expected.  I  only  won- 
der he  appeared  so  well." 

"  Yes,  he  has  had  to  suffer  for  his  folly." 

Guttorm  looked  down  a  little,  as  he  replied, 
"  He  is  only  in  his  youth  yet." 

"  There  is  no  good  foundation  there ;  one 
can  never  feel  sure  of  him." 

Guttorm,  who  sat  with  his  elbows  on  the  ta- 
ble, twirling  a  book  round  with  one  hand,  now 
opened  it,  and  just  as  though  he  were  reading 
softly  dropped  the  sentence,  "  He  is  said  to  be 
quite  sure  of  fully  regaining  his  health." 

The  mother  now  took  up  a  book  also.  "  That 
is,  indeed,  a  good  thing  for  such  a  fine-looking 
lad,"  said  she.  "  May  the  Lord  teach  him  to 
use  it  better  !  " 

They  both  read  ;  but  presently  Guttorm  said, 
as  he  turned  over  a  leaf,  "  He  did  not  look 
toward  her  once  during  the  whole  day." 

"  Yes,  and  I  noticed,  too,  that  he  kept  his  seat 
m  the  pew  until  she  had  gone  out." 

After  a  while,  Guttorm  asked,  "  You  think 
he  will  forget  her  ?  " 


synnove  solbakken.  155 

"  That  would  at  all  events  be  best." 

Guttorra  read  on  ;  the  wife  turned  over  the 
leaves.  "I  do  not  care  much  to  have  Ingrid 
stay  here,"  said  she. 

"  Synnove  has  scarcely  any  one  else  to  talk 
with." 

"  She  has  us." 
•     Now  the  father  glanced  over  at  her.     "  We 
must  not  be  too  strict." 

The  wife  was  silent.  Soon  she  said,  "  Nor 
have  I  ever  forbidden  her  to  visit  with  Ingrid." 

The  father  closed  his  book,  arose,  and  looked 
out  of  the  window.  "  There  goes  Ingrid,"  said 
he. 

Scarcely  had  the  mother  heard  this  than  she 
hastily  left  the  room.  The  father  remained 
for  some  time  at  the  window  ;  then  turned  and 
walked  up  and  down.  The  wife  came  in  again, 
and  he  paused. 

"  Yes,  it  was  as  I  thought,"  said  she.  "  Syn- 
nove is  sitting  up  there  crying,  but  rummages 
about  in  her  trunk  when  I  come  in."  And  then 
she  added,  shaking  her  head,  "No,  it  is  not 
well  to  have  Ingrid  coming  here  ; "  and  she  be- 
took herself  to  preparing  the  evening  meal, 
passing  often  in  and  out. 

Once  while  she  was  out  Synnove  came  in, 
rather  flushed  from  weeping   and   quiet ;    she 


156  SYNNOVE   SOLBAKKEN. 

walked  close  by  her  father,  into  whose  face  she 
looked  up  as  she  passed,  and  over  to  the  table, 
where  she  sat  down  and  took  a  book.  Presently, 
she  closed  this,  and  asked  her  mother  if  she 
should  help  her. 

"  Yes,  do  so  !  "  said  the  latter.  "  Work  is 
good  for  all  things." 

It  became  her  task  to  set  the  table  ;  it  stood 
over  by  the  window.  The  father,  who  thus  far 
had  been  walking  to  and  fro,  went  over  there 
now  and  looked  out.  "  I  believe  that  barley 
field  the  rain  beat  down  is  straightening  up 
again,"  said  he.  Synnove  took  her  stand  by  his 
side,  and  looked  out,  too.  He  turned ;  his  wife 
was  in,  and  so  he  merely  stroked  the  back  of 
Synnove's  head  with  one  hand,  after  which  he 
began  pacing  the  floor  again. 

They  ate  their  supper,  but  very  quietly.  The 
mother  said  grace  that  day  both  before  and  after 
the  meal,  and  when  they  had  arisen  she  lesired 
them  to  read  and  sing,  which  they  did,  too. 
"  The  word  of  God  gives  peace ;  it  is  after  all 
the  greatest  blessing  in  a  house."  With  this 
the  mother  looked  over  at  Synnove,  who  had 
cast  down  her  eyes.  "  Now  I  am  going  to  tell 
you  a  story,"  said  the  mother;  "it  is  true, 
every  word,  and  not  bad  for  those  who  will  re- 
flect upon  it." 


SYNNOVE   SOLBAKKEN.  157 

And  then  she  began  as  follows  :  "  There  was, 
in  my  younger  days,  a  young  girl  at  Houg,  who 
was  the  granddaughter  of  a  learned  old  lens- 
mand.  He  early  took  her  under  his  own  care, 
that  he  might  have  joy  in  her  in  his  old  days, 
and  of  course  taught  her  the  word  of  God  and 
good  behavior.  She  was  quick  at  learning  and 
delighted  in  knowledge,  so  that  in  the  course 
of  time  she  was  far  in  advance,  while  we  stood 
behind  ;  she  wrote  and  ciphered,  knew  all  her 
school-books  and  twenty-five  chapters  in  the  Bi- 
ble, when  she  was  fifteen  years  old.  I  remem- 
ber it  as  though  it  were  yesterday.  She  cared 
more  for  reading  than  for  dancing,  so  that  she 
rarely  was  to  be  found  at  the  merry-makings, 
but  oftener  in  her  grandfather's  loft-chamber, 
where  he  kept  his  many  books.  It  so  hap- 
pened that  whenever  we  did  meet  her  she 
always  seemed  to  be  somewhere  else,  and  we 
said  to  one  another,  '  Were  we  only  as  wise  as 
Karen  Hougen  !  '  She  was  to  inherit  the  old 
man's  property,  and  many  a  good  fellow  offered 
himself  to  share  it  with  her ;  but  they  all  got 
refusals.  About  this  time  the  pi'iest's  son  came 
home  from  the  priest-school.  Things  had  not 
gone  well  with  him,  because  he  had  more  taste 
for  carousing  and  mischief  than  for  proper 
things  ;  now  he  drank.    '  Beware  of  him ! '  said 


158  SYNNOVE   SOLBAKKEN. 

the  old  lensmand.  'I  have  been  much  with  peo- 
ple of  the  upper  classes,  and  it  is  my  experience 
that  they  are  less  worthy  of  our  confidence  than 
peasants.'  Karen  constantly  heeded  his  voice 
beyond  that  of  others.  And  when,  by  and  by, 
she  began  to  come  into  contact  with  the  priest's 
son  she  avoided  him,  for  he  sought  her.  Soon 
she  could  go  nowhere  without  meeting  him. 
'  Away  ! '  ci'ied  she  ;  'it  will  do  you  no  good.' 
But  he  persisted,  and  thus  it  happened  that  at 
last  she  was  forced  to  pause  and  listen.  He 
was  handsome  enough,  but  when  he  told  her 
that  he  could  not  live  without  her  he  frightened 
her.  He  was  always  hanging  about  the  house, 
but  she  did  not  come  out ;  he  stood  outside  of 
her  window  at  night,  but  she  did  not  appear ; 
he  said  he  would  put  an  end  to  himself,  but 
Karen  knew  what  she  knew.  And  then  he 
would  take  to  drinking  again.  '  Beware  of  him  ! 
These  are  all  the  devil's  snares,'  said  the  old 
lensmand.  One  day  the  fellow  appeared  in  her 
room ;  no  one  knew  how  he  had  come  there. 
Now  I  am  going  to  kill  you,'  said  he.  '  Yes, 
io  so  if  you  dare,'  said  she.  But  then  he  shed 
tears,  and  told  her  that  it  was  in  her  power  to 
nake  a  respectable  man  of  him.  'If  you  could 
abstain  from  drinking  even  half  a  year,'  said 
Bhe.     And  so  he   kept   from    drinking   half  a 


SYNNOVE    SOLBAKKEN.  159 

year.  '  Do  you  trust  me  now?  '  asked  lie.  '  Not 
until  you  have  given  up  all  kinds  of  gayety  and 
merry-making  for  half  a  year.'  This  he  did. 
'  Do  you  trust  me  now? '  asked  he.  '  Not  until 
you  go  away  and  finish  your  studies  for  the 
priesthood.'  He  did  this,  too,  and  the  next 
year  came  back  with  his  studies  completed. 
'  Do  you  trust  me  now  ?  '  asked  he,  and  even 
had  on  gown  and  collar.  '  Now  I  should  like 
to  hear  you  preach  a  few  times,'  said  Karen. 
And  he  preached  strictly  in  accordance  with 
the  word  of  God,  as  it  behooves  a  priest  to  do  ; 
he  spoke  of  his  own  weakness,  and  how  easy  it 
was  to  conquer  if  one  could  only  begin,  and 
how  good  the  word  of  God  was  when  once  it 
was  found.  After  this  he  again  sought  Karen. 
'  Yes,  now  I  believe  you  live  up  to  what  you 
have  learned,'  said  Karen.  '  And  now  I  will 
tell  you  that  for  three  years  I  have  been  be- 
trothed to  my  cousin,  Anders  Hougen ;  you 
shall  publish  the  bans  for  us  next  Sunday.'  " 

Here  the  mother  concluded.  Synnove  had 
paid  little  attention  in  the  beginning,  but  had 
gradually  roused  up  more  and  more,  and  at  the 
last  hung  upon  every  word.  "  Is  there  any 
more?"  inquired  she,  much  alarmed. 

"  No,"  answered  the  mother.  The  father 
..ooked  at  the  mother,  and  then  her  gaze  grew 


160  SYNNOVE   SOLBAKKEN. 

unsteady  and  avoided  his  ;  and  after  a  little  re- 
flection, daring  which  she  drew  her  finger  along 
the  table,  she  continued,  "  Perhaps  there  might 
be  something  more  ;  but  it  does  not  matter." 

"  Is  there  more  ?  "  asked  Synnove,  turning 
to  her  father,  who  seemed  to  know  about  it. 

"  Oh  —  yes  ;  but  it  is  as  mother  says  ;  it  does 
not  matter." 

"  What  became  of  him  ?  "  asked  Synnove. 

"  Ay,  that  is  just  it,"  said  the  father,  and 
looked  toward  the  mother.  She  had  leaned 
back  against  the  wall,  and  was  looking  at  the 
two. 

"  Did  he  become  unhappy?"  asked  Synnove, 
softly. 

"  We  must  end  where  the  end  ought  to  be," 
said  the  mother,  and  arose.  The  father  did 
likewise.     Synnove  slowly  arose  after  them. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

Some  weeks  later,  early  in  the  morning,  the 
entire  Solbakke  household  was  preparing  for 
church-going.  There  was  to  be  confirmation, 
which  took  place  a  little  earlier  this  year  than 
usual,  and  on  an  occasion  of  this  kind  the 
house  was  always  locked  up,  for  all  wanted  to 
go.  They  were  not  going  to  drive,  as  the 
weather  was  clear,  although  rather  cold  and 
blustering  in  the  morning ;  the  day  promised 
to  be  fine.  The  road  wound  about  the  parish  ; 
and  past  Granliden,  then  took  an  abrupt  turn 
to  the  right,  and  fully  two  miles  farther  on  lay 
the  church.  The  grain  was  in  most  places  cut 
and  put  on  poles  for  drying.  The  cows  had 
nearly  all  been  brought  down  from  the  mount- 
ains, and  were  tethered.  The  fields  were  either 
covered  with  their  second  growth  of  green,  or 
where  the  earth  was  poor  were  of  a  grayish- 
white  hue.  Round  about  stood  the  many-col- 
ored forests :  the  birch  already  drooping,  the 
aspen  quite  yellow,  the  rowan  with  dry,  shriv- 
eled leaves,  but  with  berries.  It  had  rained 
11 


162  SYNNOVE   SOLBAKKEN. 

hard  for  several  days ;  the  small  brush  that 
lined  the  roadside,  and  stood  sneezing  in  the 
sand,  was  now  washed  clean  and  fresh.  But 
the  mountain  sides  began  to  beetle  more  darkly 
over  the  valley,  now  that  the  devastating  au- 
tumn had  dismantled  them  and  made  them 
look  sober;  whereas  the  mountain  brooks, 
which  had  only  occasionally  shown  life  during 
the  summer,  rolled  swollen  and  leaped  down 
with  a  great  noise.  The  Granlid  force  fell 
more  heavily  and  with  more  gravity,  especially 
when  it  came  to  the  rocky  waste  of  the  Granlid 
slope,  where  the  mountain  suddenly  refuses  to 
accompany  it  any  farther,  and  makes  an  ab- 
rupt curve  inward.  It  braced  itself  in  the  rock, 
and  then  rushed  onward,  and  shouted  so  that 
the  mountain  trembled.  The  rock  was  well 
washed  for  its  treason,  for  the  force  sent  a  pro- 
voking jet  of  spray  right  up  into  its  face. 
Some  inquisitive  alder  bushes,  which  had  ap- 
proached the  edge  of  the  precipice,  had  nearly 
reeled  clown  in  the  flood  ;  they  stood  gasping 
in  the  shower-bath,  for  the  force  was  not  spar- 
ing to-day. 

Thorbjorn,  both  his  parents,  his  brother  and 
sister,  and  the  rest  of  the  household  passed  by 
and  beheld  this.  He  was  now  well  again,  and 
had  already  taken  vigorous  hold  of  his  father's 


SYNXOVE   SOLBAKKEN.  163 

work,  as  before.  The  two  were  continually  to- 
gether, and  so  they  were  to-day. 

"  I  almost  think  those  are  the  Solbakke  peo- 
ple we  have  right  behind  us,"  said  the  father. 

Thorbjorn  did  not  look  back,  but  the  mother 
said,  "  Yes,  so  they  are  ;  but  I  do  not  see  — oh, 
yes,  far  back  there." 

Either  because  the  Granlid  family  went 
faster  after  this,  or  because  the  Solbakke  fam- 
ily slackened  their  speed,  the  distance  between 
them  became  greater  and  greater  ;  at  last  they 
could  scarcely  see  one  another. 

It  looked  as  if  the  church  would  be  crowded ; 
the  long  parish  road  was  black  with  people, 
walking,  driving,  and  riding.  The  horses,  now 
in  the  autumn,  were  full  of  mettle  and  little 
accustomed  to  being  together ;  the  result  of 
which  was  that  they  went  neighing  along,  and 
were  so  unruly  that  the  trip  was  dangerous,  al- 
though quite  lively.  The  nearer  they  drew  to 
the  church,  the  greater  noise  the  horses  kept 
up;  for  each  one  that  arrived  called  out  to 
those  who  already  stood  tied  there,  and  they 
in  turn  tugged  at  their  tethers,  stamped  on  the 
ground  with  their  hind  hoofs,  and  whinnied  at 
the  new-comers.  All  the  dogs  of  the  parish, 
who  the  whole  week  long  had  sat  listening  to 
one  another,  scolding  and  teasing  one  another, 


164  SYNNOVE   SOLBAKKEN. 

now  met  here  at  chm*ch,  and  rushed  into  the 
most  desperate  fights,  in  couples  and  in  great 
knots,  all  over  the  grounds.  The  people  stood 
quiet  in  rows  along  the  church  wall  and  along 
the  houses,  spoke  in  whispers,  and  merely 
looked  at  one  another  out  of  the  corners  of 
their  eyes.  The  road  leading  past  the  wall  was 
not  broad ;  the  houses  on  the  opposite  side 
were  close  by ;  and  the  women  generally  stood 
along  the  church  wall,  the  men  directly  oppo- 
site, along  the  houses.  Not  until  later  did  they 
venture  to  cross  over  and  mingle  together ;  and 
even  if  acquaintances  espied  one  another  at  a 
distance  they  acted  as  though  they  did  not 
know  one  another  until  that  time  came.  It 
might  then  happen  that  when  a  fresh  party 
came  up  some  of  those  already  there  stood  so 
directly  in  their  way  that  a  greeting  could  not 
be  avoided  ;  but  it  was  given,  in  such  cases, 
with  half-averted  face  and  few  words,  where- 
upon the  new-comers  were  apt  to  withdraw 
each  to  his  side.  When  the  Granlid  family 
approached,  the  prevailing  stillness,  if  possi- 
ble, increased.  Saemund  did  not  have  many 
to  greet,  and  so  he  quickly  passed  down  the 
line ;  the  women,  on  their  part,  at  once  fast- 
ened themselves  against  the  wall,  and  remained 
standing  there  among  the  foremost.     The  re- 


SYNNOVE   SOLBAKKEN.  165 

suit  of  this  was  that  when  it  was  time  to  go 
into  church  the  men  had  to  cross  over  again 
after  the  women.  Just  as  they  were  doing  so, 
three  vehicles,  one  after  the  other,  came  driv- 
ing up  more  rapidly  than  any  of  the  preced- 
ing ones,  and  did  not  slacken  their  speed  as 
they  turned  in  among  the  people.  Sasmund 
and  Thorbjorn,  who  came  near  being  run  over, 
both  looked  up  at  once ;  in  the  first  vehicle  sat 
Knud  Nordhoug  and  an  old  man,  in  the  sec- 
ond his  sister  and  her  husband,  and  in  the  third 
his  parents.  Father  and  son  looked  at  each 
other  ;  not  a  feature  of  Ssemund's  face  moved. 
Thorbjorn  was  very  pale.  They  both  gazed 
away  and  looked  directly  before  them ;  then 
they  saw  the  Solbakke  family,  who  had  just 
paused  directly  opposite  to  greet  Inge bj  org  and 
Ingrid  Granliden.  The  vehicles  had  come  in 
between ;  conversation  had  grown  stiff ;  their 
eyes  still  hung  on  those  who  had  driven  on, 
and  it  was  some  time  before  they  could  with- 
draw them.  After  one  and  the  other  had  be- 
gun to  recover  from  the  surprise,  and  let  their 
eyes  wander  around  to  seek  something  to  di- 
vert their  attention,  they  fell  on  Saemund  and 
Thorbjorn,  who  stood  staring  there  in  the  road. 
Guttorm  Solbakken  turned  away,  but  his  wife 
at   once   sought   Thorbjorn's   eyes.      Synnove, 


166  SYNNOVE   SOLBAKKEN. 

who  had  probably  caught  these,  turned  to  In- 
grid  Granliden,  and  took  her  hand  to  greet  her, 
although  she  had  done  so  once  before.  But 
they  all  at  the  same  time  became  conscious  that 
their  servants  and  acquaintances  were  every  one 
observing  them,  and  Ssemund  went  right  over 
and,  without  looking  at  him,  took  Guttorin  by 
the  hand. 

"  Thanks  for  last,"  1  said  he. 

"  Thanks  to  yourself  for  last." 

To  Guttorm's  wife  too  he  said,  "  Thanks  for 
last." 

"Thanks  to  yourself  for  last;"  but  she  did 
not  look  up  as  she  spoke. 

Thorbjorn  followed,  and  did  as  his  father  had 
done.  The  latter  had  now  come  to  Synnove,  who 
was  the  first  person  he  looked  at.  She  looked 
up  at  him,  too,  and  forgot  to  say,  "  Thanks  for 
last."  Thorbjorn  appeared  just  then  ;  he  said 
nothing,  she  nothing.  They  took  each  other  by 
the  hand,  but  lightly ;  neither  could  raise  an 
eye,  neither  could  stir  a  foot. 

"  It  is  surely  going  to  be  blessed  weather,  to- 
day," remarked  Karen  Solbakken,  and  glanced 
hastily  from  one  to  the  other. 

It  was  Ssemund  who  answered :  "  Oh,  yes ; 
that  wind  is  driving  the  clouds  away." 

i  A  common  greeting  in  Norway,  equivalent  to  "  Thanks  for  the 
last  time  we  were  together." 


synnOte  solbakken.  167 

"  That  is  a  good  tiling  for  the  grain  that  is 
standing  out  and  needs  dry  weather,"  said  In- 
gebjorg  Granliden,  and  began  to  brash  the 
back  of  Saemund's  jacket,  probably  because  she 
thought  it  was  dusty. 

"  The  Lord  has  given  us  a  good  year ;  but  it 
is  rather  uncertain  whether  we  shall  get  every- 
thing under  cover,"  began  Karen  Solbakken, 
and  glanced  over  again  at  the  two,  who  had 
not  stirred  since  the  last  time  she  looked. 

"  That  depends  upon  how  strong  a  force  we 
can  muster,"  replied  Ssemund,  and  turned  in 
such  a  way  toward  her  that  she  could  not  very 
well  look  where  she  wanted.  "  I  have  often 
thought  that  a  couple  of  gards  might  unite 
their  forces;  we  would  surely  do  better  in  that 
way." 

"  It  might  happen  that  they  would  want  to 
make  use  of  the  dry  weather  at  the  same  time," 
said  Karen  Solbakken,  and  took  a  step  to  one 
side. 

"  Yes,  to  be  sure,"  answered  Ingebjb'rg,  and 
stationed  herself  close  beside  her  husband,  so 
that  Karen  could  not  look  where  she  desired 
now  either.  "  But  in  some  places  the  crop 
ripens  earlier  than  in  others ;  Solbakken  is 
often  a  fortnight  in  advance  of  us." 

"  Yes,  and  so  we  could  very  well  help  each 


168  SYNNOVE   SOLBAKKEN. 

other,"  observed  Guttorm  slowly,  and  drew  a 
step  nearer.  Karen  gave  him  a  hasty  glance 
"  However,  there  are  many  circumstances  which 
can  come  in  the  way,"  added  he. 

"  That  there  are,"  said  Karen,  and  moved  a 
step  to  one  side,  a  step  to  the  other,  and  still 
anothe",  but  glanced  back  again. 

"  Oh,  yes,  there  is  often  a  great  deal  in  one's 
way,"  said  Ssemund;  and  a  smile  seemed  to 
play  about  his  lips. 

"  That  is  no  doubt  so,"  said  Guttorm. 

But  his  wife  interposed,  "  Man's  power  does 
not  extend  far ;  that  of  God  is  the  greatest,  I 
should  think,  and  it  depends  upon  Him." 

"  Do  you  think  He  is  likely  to  have  anything 
especial  against  our  helping  one  another  with 
the  harvesting  at  Granliden  and  Solbakken  ?  " 

"  No,"  remarked  Guttorm.  "  He  cannot  have 
anything  against  that,"  and  he  looked  gravely 
at  his  wife.     She  turned  the  subject. 

"  There  are  a  great  many  people  at  church 
to-day,"  said  she ;  "  it  does  one  good  to  see 
them  seek  the  house  of  God." 

No  one  seemed  to  want  to  reply  ;  finally  Gut 
torm  observed,  "  I  really  believe  the  fear  of 
God  is  increasing  ;  there  is  a  larger  attendance 
at  church  now  than  there  was  in  my  young 
days." 


SYNNOVE   SOLBAKKEN.  169 

"  Oh,  yes,  —  the  people  are  increasing,"  re- 
marked Ssemund. 

"No  doubt  there  are  some  among  them,  per- 
haps the  greater  part,  who  merely  come  over 
here  from  habit,"  said  Karen  Solbakken. 

"  Perhaps  the  younger  ones,"  observed  In- 
gebjorg. 

"  The  younger  ones  like  to  meet  one  another," 
said  Ssemund. 

"  Have  you  heard  that  the  priest  is  going  to 
apply  for  another  parish?  "  asked  Karen,  thus 
turning  the  conversation  a  second  time. 

"  That  would  be  too  bad,"  said  Ingebjorg. 
"  He  has  both  baptized  and  confirmed  all  my 
children." 

"  I  suppose  you  would  like  him  to  marry 
them  also,  first,"  said  Saemund,  and  chewed 
away  at  a  chip  he  had  picked  up. 

"  I  wonder  if  it  will  not  soon  be  church 
time ! "  exclaimed  Karen,  and  looked  over  at 
the  door. 

"Yes,  it  is  pretty  warm  out  here  to-day," 
said  Scemund,  chewing  away  as  before. 

"  Come  now,  Synnove,  let  us  go  in." 

Synnove  started,  and  turned,  for  she  had 
doubtless  been  talking  with  Thorbjorn. 

"  Will  you  not  wait  until  the  bell  rings?" 
asked  Ingrid  Granliden,  and  stole  a  glance  at 
Synnove. 


170  SYNNOVE   SOLBAKKEN. 

"  Then  we  can  all  go  in  together,"  added 
Ingebjorg. 

Synnove  knew  not  what  she  should  answer. 

Sasmund  looked  over  his  shoulder  at  her. 
''  Wait,  and  it  will  ring  soon  for  you,"  said  he. 

Synnove  grew  very  red;  her  mother  looked 
sharply  up  at  hiin.  But  he  smiled  with  his 
eyes  fixed  on  her. 

"  It  will  be  now  as  the  Lord  wishes  :  was  not 
that  what  you  said  a  while  ago?"  said  he,  and 
sauntered  on  in  advance  toward  the  church,  the 
others  following. 

At  the  church  door  there  was  a  crowd,  and 
when  they  came  to  look  it  was  not  open.  Just 
as  they  drew  nearer  to  inquire  into  the  cause  of 
this,  the  door  was  opened,  and  the  people  poured 
in ;  but  some  of  them  stepped  back,  and  this 
separated  those  who  were  entering.  Up  against 
tlie  wall  stood  two  people,  in  conversation,  one 
of  them  tall  and  heavily  built,  with  light  but 
straight  hair  and  snub  nose;  and  this  was  Knud 
Nordhoug,  who,  when  he  saw  the  Granlid  family 
approach,  stopped  talking,  looked  rather  em- 
barrassed, but  stood  still,  nevertheless.  Sasmund 
was  obliged  now  to  go  right  past  him,  and  fixed 
on  him  a  pair  of  eyes,  as  he  did  so  ;  but  Knud 
did  not  lower  his  either,  although  their  gaze 
was  not  steady.     Now  came  Synnove,  and  the 


SYNNOVE   SOLBAKKEN.  171 

moment  she  so  unexpectedly  caught  sight  of 
Knud  she  grew  deathly  pale.  Then  Knud  cast 
down  his  eyes,  and  straightened  himself  up 
from  the  wall  to  go.  He  had  taken  only  a  few 
steps  when  he  saw  four  faces  turned  to  his ; 
these  were  Guttorm's,  his  wife's,  Ingrid's,  and 
Thorbjorn's.  As  one  bewildered,  he  went 
straight  toward  them,  so  that  without  know- 
ing what  he  was  doing  he  soon  stood  face  to 
face  with  Thorbjorn  himself  ;  the  latter  at  once 
made  a  movement  to  turn  aside  ;  but  several 
people  had  come  up,  and  this  could  not  so  eas- 
ily be  done.  This  occurred  on  the  stone  slab 
lying  outside  of  the  Fagerlid  church.  Upon 
the  threshold  of  the  vestibule  Synnove  had 
paused,  and  Ssemund  farther  in  ;  as  they  stood 
higher  than  the  others,  they  could  distinctly  see 
every  one  outside,  and  be  seen  by  them.  Syn- 
nove had  forgotten  all  else  around  her,  and  only 
stared  at  Thorbjiirn  ;  the  same  with  SaBmuud, 
his  wife,  the  Solbakke  couple,  and  Ingrid. 
Thorbjorn  felt  this,  and  stood  as  one  nailed  to 
the  spot ;  but  Knud  thought  he  must  do  some- 
thing here,  and  so  he  stretched  out  one  hand 
a  little  way,  but  said  nothing.  Thorbjorn  also 
put  his  forward  a  little,  but  not  so  that  the 
two  hands  could  touch. 

"  Thanks  for "  —  began  Knud,  but  remem- 


172  SYNNOVE   SOLBAKKEN. 

bered  at  once  that  this  was  not  the  proper 
greeting  here,  and  drew  back  a  step. 

Thorbjorn  looked  up,  and  his  eye  fell  on 
Synnove,  who  was  as  white  as  snow.  With  a 
long  stride  forward  and  a  vigorous  grasp  of 
Knud's  hand,  he  said,  so  that  those  nearest 
could  hear  it,  "  Thanks  for  last,  Knud ;  we  may 
have  gained  much  good  from  it,  both  of  us." 

Knud  gave  vent  to  a  sound,  almost  like  a  sob, 
and  it  seemed  two  or  three  times  as  though  he 
tried  to  speak,  but  the  effort  was  in  vain.  Thor- 
bjorn had  nothing  further  to  say,  he  waited, 
did  not  look  up,  —  only  waited.  There  was  ut- 
tered, meanwhile,  not  a  word  ;  and  as  Thorbjorn 
now  stood  there  twirling  his  hymn-book,  it 
chanced  that  he  dropped  it.  At  once  Knud 
stooped,  picked  it  up,  and  handed  it  to  him. 

"  Thank  you !  "  said  Thorbjorn,  who  had  half 
stooped  himself.  He  raised  his  eyes,  but  as 
Knud  looked  down  again,  Thorbjorn  thought, 
"  It  is  best  for  me  to  go."     And  so  he  went. 

The  others  went,  too,  and  when  Thorbjorn 
had  been  seated  for  a  while,  and  ventured  to 
look  over  at  the  women's  pew,  his  gaze  met 
In gebj org's  face,  beaming  with  a  motherly  smile 
on  him,  and  that  of  Karen  Solbakken  too,  who 
evidently  had  been  waiting  for  him  to  look  over 
there ;    for  the  moment  he  did  so  she  nodded 


synnove  solbakken.  173 

at  him  three  times,  and  when  he  hesitated  she 
nodded  again  three  times,  still  more  gently 
than  before.  Ssenmnd,  his  father,  whispered  in 
his  ear,  "  I  thought  so."  They  had  heard  the 
opening  prayer,  sung  a  hymn,  and  the  confirma- 
tion candidates  were  already  taking  their  places 
before  he  whispered  to  him  the  next  time  : 
"  But  Knud  does  not  know  much  about  being 
good ;  let  it  ever  be  far  from  Granliden  to 
Nordhoug." 

The  confirmation  began  by  the  priest  coming 
forward  and  the  children  uniting  in  sinking 
Kingo's  confirmation  hymn.  To  hear  them  sing 
all  at  once  and  without  accompaniment,  their 
fresh  young  voices  so  full  of  trusting  hope,  is 
calculated  to  touch  people,  and  especially  those 
who  are  not  too  far  advanced  in  life  to  remem- 
ber their  own  day.  When  after  this  deep  si- 
lence ensues,  and  the  priest,  the  same  now  as 
more  than  twenty  years  ago,  the  same  who  has 
taken  such  pains  to  find  an  occasional  little 
hour  wherein  he  has  talked  for  the  improve- 
ment of  every  single  one  of  them,  —  when  now 
he  clasps  his  hands  over  his  breast  and  joins  in 
the  hymn,  there  is  indeed  much  emotion.  But 
the  children  begin  to  shed  tears  when  the  priest 
talks  of  their  parents,  and  wishes  them  to  pray 
to  the  Lord  for  their  children.     Thorbjorn,  who 


174  SYNNOVE   SOLBAKKEN. 

but  recently  lay  at  the  point  of  death,  and  still 
more  recently  believed  that  he  would  be  an  in- 
valid all  his  life,  wept  much,  but  especially 
when  the  children  took  upon  them  their  vow, 
and  all  seemed  so  sure  of  being  able  to  keep  it. 
He  did  not  once  look  over  at  the  women's  pew, 
but  at  the  end  of  the  service  he  went  over  to 
Ingrid,  his  sister,  and  whispered  something  to 
her,  whereupon  he  hurriedly  pressed  forward 
and  went  out ;  and  some  were  under  the  im- 
pression that  he  had  gone  up  over  the  slope  and 
through  the  woods,  instead  of  by  the  road,  but 
they  were  not  sure  of  this.  Saemund  searched 
for  him  ;  gave  it  up,  though,  when  he  saw  that 
Ingrid  too  was  gone.  He  then  looked  round 
for  the  Solbakke  people;  they  were  seeking 
everywhere  for  Synnove,  whom  no  one  had 
seen.  Then  they  started  for  home,  each  sepa- 
rately, and  without  their  children. 

But  already  far  on  their  way  were  both  Syn- 
nove and  Ingrid. 

"  I  am  almost  sorry  that  I  came  along,"  said 
the  former. 

"  It  is  no  longer  serious  now  that  father 
knows  of  it,"  said  the  latter. 

"  Yes,  but  he  is  not  my  father,"  replied  Syn 
uove. 

u  Who  knows?"  replied  Ingrid;  and  then 
they  said  nothing  more  upon  that  subject. 


SYNNOVE   SOLBAKKEN.  175 

"  This  must  be  where  we  were  to  wait,"  re- 
marked Ingrid,  as  the  road  made  an  abrupt 
curve,  and  they  entered  a  dense  wood. 

"  He  has  taken  a  long,  roundabout  way./' 
said  Synnove. 

"  Already  come  !  "  interposed  Thorbjorn  ;  he 
arose  from  behind  a  great  stone. 

He  had  ready  in  his  mind  all  that  he  wanted 
to  say,  and  that  was  not  a  little.  But  to-day 
things  could  not  go  wrong  ;  for  his  father  knew 
his  wishes  and  approved  them,  of  which  he  felt 
sure,  after  what  had  occurred  at  church.  This 
oportunity  was  what  he  had  been  longing  for 
the  whole  summer,  and  he  surely  would  be 
more  able  to  speak  now  than  he  had  ever  been 
before.  "  We  had  better  take  the  road  through 
the  woods,"  observed  he  ;  "  we  will  get  on  faster 
that  way."  The  girls  said  nothing,  but  went 
with  him.  Thorbjorn  thought  about  speaking 
to  Synnove,  but  first  he  wanted  to  wait  until 
they  got  up  over  the  hill,  afterward  until  they 
were  across  the  marsh  ;  yet  when  they  were 
well  across,  he  decided  that  it  was  best  not  to 
begin  until  they  had  come  into  the  woods,  far- 
ther on.  Ingrid,  who  probably  thought  they 
were  getting  on  pretty  slowly,  began  to  slacken 
her  pace,  and  fell  more  and  more  behind,  until 
she  was  scarcely  visible.     Synnove   pretended 


176  SYNNOVE   SOLBAKKEN. 

she  did  not  notice  this,  but  began  to  pick  here 
and  there  a  berry  which  thrust  itself  forward 
on  the  roadside. 

"  It  would  be  strange  if  I  could  not  find  words 
for  myself,"  thought  Thorbjorn  ;  and  so  he  re- 
marked, "  The  weather  proved  to  be  fine  to-day, 
after  all." 

"  So  it  did,"  answered  Synnove.  And  then 
they  walked  on  a  piece  again.  She  picked  ber- 
ries, and  he  kept  moving. 

"  It  was  kind  of  you  to  come  with  me,"  said 
he  ;  but  to  this  she  made  no  answer.  "  It  has 
been  a  long  summer,"  he  continued  „  but  to 
this  she  made  no  answer,  either. 

"No,  as  long  as  we  are  walking,"  thought 
Thorbjorn,  "we  will  never  get  the  conversa- 
tion started.  I  think  we  had  better  wait  a  lit- 
tle for  Ingrid,"  said  he. 

"  Yes,  let  us  do  so,"  answered  Synnove,  and 
stood,  still. 

There  were  no  berries  here  to  stoop  for,  — 
this  Thorbjorn  had  plainly  seen  ;  but  Synnove 
had  picked  up  a  large  straw,  and  now  she  stood 
and  threaded  the  berries  on  the  straw. 

"  To-day  I  have  been  strongly  reminded  of 
the  time  when  we  went  together  to  confirma- 
tion," said  he. 

"  I,  too,  thought  of  it,"  replied  she. 


SYNNOVE   SOLBAKKEN.  177 

"Many  things  have  happened  since  that 
time,"  said  he  ;  and  as  she  made  no  answer,  he 
continued :  "  but  most  of  them  have  been  dif- 
ferent from  what  we  expected." 

Synnove  was  very  industriously  threading  her 
berries  on  the  straw,  and  held  her  head  bowed 
down  as  she  did  so.  He  advanced  a  little  in 
order  to  look  into  her  face  ;  but,  as  though  she 
observed  this,  she  managed  to  make  it  neces- 
sary for  her  to  turn  again.  Then  he  grew  al- 
most afraid  that  he  should  not  be  able  to  say 
what  he  desired. 

"  Synnove,  you  must  have  something  to  say, 
too." 

She  looked  up  and  laughed.  "  What  shall  I 
say  ?  "  asked  she. 

He  recovered  all  his  courage,  and  wanted  to 
put  his  arm  right  around  her  waist ;  but  when 
he  came  near  her,  he  did  not  exactly  dare  to  do 
so.  He  therefore  merely  asked,  very  timidly, 
"  Ingrid  has  talked  with  you,  I  presume?" 

"  Yes,"  replied  she. 

"  Then  I  dare  say  you  know  something,  too," 
said  he.  She  was  silent.  "  Then  I  dare  say 
you  know  something,  too,"  he  repeated,  and 
drew  nearer  the  second  time. 

"  You  know  something,  too,  I  suppose,"  an- 
swered she. 

12 


178  SYNNOVE   SOLBAKKEN. 

He  could  not  see  her  face. 

"  Yes,"  said  he,  and  tried  to  take  hold  of 
one  of  her  hands  ;  but  she  was  more  industrious 
now  than  ever.  "  It  is  so  provoking,"  continued 
he ;  "  you  steal  my  courage  away."  He  could 
not  see  whether  she  smiled  to  this,  and  there- 
fore he  did  not  know  what  he  should  add.  "  To 
cut  the  matter  short,"  said  he,  suddenly,  speak- 
ing in  a  loud  tone,  although  the  voice  was  not 
quite  steady,  "  what  have  you  done  with  that 
note  ?  " 

She  made  no  reply,  but  turned  away.  He 
moved  after  her,  laid  one  hand  on  her  shoulder, 
and  bent  over  her. 

"  Answer  me,"  he  whispered. 

"  I  have  burnt  it." 

He  quickly  seized  hold  of  her  and  turned 
her  toward  him  ;  but  then  he  saw  that  she  was 
about  to  cry,  and  so  he  did  not  dare  to  do 
anything  but  let  go  his  hold  of  her  again.  "  It 
is  too  bad  that  her  tears  come  so  easily," 
thought  he. 

Just  at  that  moment  she  said,  "  Why  did 
you  write  the  note  ?  " 

"  That  Ingrid  has  told  you." 

"  Yes,  of  course  ;  but  —  it  was  hard  in  you.' 

"  Father  wished  that  "  — 

"  Nevertheless  "  — 


SYNNOVE   SOLBAKKEN.  179 

"  He  believed  that  I  would  be  a  broken- 
down  invalid  all  my  life ;  hereafter  I  shall  take 
care  of  you,"  said  he. 

Ingrid  appeared  at  the  foot  of  the  hill,  and 
they  started  at  once  to  go  on. 

"  It  seemed  as  though  I  cared  most  for  you 
when  I  no  longer  thought  I  should  be  able  to 
get  you,"  he  continued. 

"One  knows  one's  self  best  when  one  is 
alone,"  said  she. 

"  Yes ;  then  we  find  out  who  has  the  great- 
est power  over  us,"  said  Thorbjorn,  in  a  clear 
voice,  and  walked  gravely  by  her  side. 

She  picked  no  more  berries. 

"  Will  you  have  these  ?  "  asked  she,  handing 
him  the  straw. 

"  Thank  you !  "  said  he,  and  held  fast  to  the 
hand  that  reached  him  the  berries.  "  So  then 
it  is  best  that  things  go  on  in  the  old  way," 
said  he,  in  rather  a  faint  voice. 

"  Yes,"  she  whispered,  scarcely  audibly,  and 
turned  away. 

Then  they  went  onward,  and  so  long  as  she 
was  silent  he  did  not  either  dare  touch  her  or 
speak ;  but  he  felt  no  weight  at  all  in  his  body, 
and  therefore  came  pretty  near  tumbling  over. 
There  was  a  burning  in  his  eyes,  and  when, 
just  then,  they  reached  an  elevation  from  which 


180  SYNNOVE   SOLBAKKEN. 

Solbakken  was  plainly  visible  it  seemed  to  him 
as  though  he  had  lived  there  all  his  life,  and 
longed  to  get  home. 

"  I  might  just  as  well  go  over  with  her  at 
once,"  thought  he;  and,  drinking  in  courage 
from  the  view,  he  grew  stronger  in  his  resolve 
with  every  step.  "Father  will  help  me," 
thought  he.  "  I  cannot  bear  this  any  longer  ; 
•I  must  go  over  there,  —  I  must !  "  He  walked 
faster  and  faster,  looking  straight  before  him  ; 
there  seemed  to  be  a  glow  over  parish  and  gard. 
"  Yes,  to-day ;  not  an  hour  longer  will  I  wait ; " 
and  he  felt  so  strong  that  he  knew  not  which 
way  he  should  turn. 

"  You  are  leaving  me  behind,"  he  heard  from 
a  sweet  voice  just  back  of  him. 

It  was  Synnove,  who  had  scarcely  been  able 
to  follow  him,  and  now  had  to  give  up.  He 
felt  ashamed,  turned,  and  walked  back  with 
outstretched  arms,  thinking,  "I  will  lift  her 
right  over  my  head  ;  "  but  when  he  came  near, 
he  did  not  do  so  at  all. 

"  I  walk  so  fast,"  said  he. 

"  You  do,"  replied  she. 

They  were  near  the  parish  road ;  Ingrid,  who 
for  some  time  had  been  out  of  sight,  came  up 
right  behind  them. 

"  Now  you  two  shall  not  walk  together  any 
'onger,"  said  she. 


SYXNOVE   SOLBAKKEN.  181 

Tliorbjorn  was  startled  at  this  ;  it  came  too 
soon  for  him.  Synnove  became  also  a  little  em 
barrassed. 

"I  have  so  much  I  ought  to  say  to  you," 
whispered  Thorbjorn.  She  could  not  avoid 
smiling.  "  Oh,  well,"  said  he,  "another  time  " 
—  and  he  took  her  hand. 

She  looked  up  with  a  clear,  full  gaze  ;  he 
grew  warm  under  it,  and  promptly  it  ran 
through  his  mind,  "  I  will  go  with  her  at  once  !  " 
Then  she  discreetly  withdrew  her  hand,  turned 
calmly  to  Ingrid,  bade  her  farewell,  and  went 
slowly  down  toward  the  road.  He  was  left 
standing  behind. 

The  brother  and  sister  went  home  through 
the  woods. 

"  Did  you  now  have  a  talk  together  ?  "  in- 
quired Ingrid. 

"  No,  the  road  was  too  short,"  said  he,  walk- 
ing fast,  as  though  he  did  not  want  to  hear 
more. 

"  Well  ?  "  asked  Ssemund,  looking  up  from 
his  dinner,  as  the  two  entered  the  room.  Thor- 
bjorn made  no  reply,  but  went  over  to  the 
bench  opposite,  probably  to  take  off  his  things; 
Ingrid  followed,  laughing  slyly.  Saemund  be- 
eran  to  eat  again :  now  and  then  he  looked  over 


182  SYNNOVE   SOLBAKKEN. 

at  Thorbjorn,  who  seemed  very  busy,  smiled, 
and  ate  on.  "  Come  and  eat,"  said  lie  ;  "  the 
dinner  will  be  cold." 

"  Thank  you,  I  do  not  want  anything,"  said 
Thorbjorn,  and  sat  down. 

"So?"  and  Seemund  went  on  eating.  Pres- 
ently he  said,  "  You  were  in  a  great  hurry  to 
get  away  from  church  to-day." 

"  There  were  some  people  we  had  to  talk 
with,"  said  Thorbjorn. 

"  Well,  did  you  get  to  talk  with  them  ?  " 

"  I  scarcely  know,"  said  Thorbjorn. 

"  The  deuce  you  do  not !  "  cried  Ssemund,  and 
went  on  eating.  Shortly  after  he  finished,  and 
arose  ;  he  walked  over  to  the  window,  stood 
a  while  looking  out,  then  turned,  and  said, 
"  See  here,  let  us  go  out  and  look  at  the 
crops."  Thorbjorn  arose.  "  No,  you  might 
as  well  put  your  coat  on."  Thorbjorn,  who  was 
in  his  shirt-sleeves,  laid  hold  of  an  old  jacket 
that  hung  above  him.  "  You  see,  I  have  put 
on  a  new  one,"  said  Ssemund.  Thorbjorn  did 
the  same,  and  they  went  out;  Sasmund  leading 
the  way,  Thorbjorn  following. 

They  went  down  toward  the  road.  "  Shall 
we  not  go  over  to  the  barley  ? "  asked  Thor- 
bjorn. 

"  No,  we  will  go  yonder  to  the  wheat,"  re* 


SYNNOVE   SOLBAKKEN.  183 

plied  Stem  and.  Just  as  they  reached  the  road, 
a  cart  came  slowly  driving  along.  "  That  is 
one  of  the  Nordhoug  carts,"  said  Sasmund. 

"  Yes,  those  are  the  young  people  from  Nord- 
houg," added  Thorbjorn.  By  the  young  people 
he  meant  the  newly-married  couple. 

The  cart  halted  as  it  came  near  the  Granlid 
men.  "  She  is  really  a  proud  woman,  that  Ma- 
rit  Nordhoug,"  whispered  Ssemund,  and  could 
not  take  his  eyes  from  her.  She  sat  leaning 
back  in  the  cart,  with  one  kerchief  loosely  tied 
about  her  head,  and  another  drawn  around  her. 
She  was  looking  fixedly  out  at  the  two  ;  there 
was  not  the  slightest  emotion  in  her  clear-cut, 
strong  features.  Her  husband  was  very  pale 
and  thin,  had  a  still  more  gentle  look  than  for- 
merly, much  as  one  who  has  a  sorrow  he  can- 
not speak  of. 

"  Are  you  men  out  looking  at  the  grain  ?  " 
asked  he. 

"  It  seems  so,"  replied  Ssemund. 

"  It  is  doing  well  this  year." 

"  Oh,  yes,  it  might  have  done  worse." 

"  You  are  late,"  said  Thorbjorn. 

"  There  were  a  great  many  acquaintances  to 
take  leave  of,"  said  the  man. 

"Why  —  are  you  going  on  a  journey?" 
asked  Saemund. 


184  SYNNOVE   SOLBAKKEN. 

"  I  expect  to,  yes." 

"  Are  you  going  far?  " 

"  Oh,  yes." 

"  How  far,  for  example  ?  " 

"  To  America." 

"  To  America !  "  exclaimed  both  men  in  a 
breath.  "  A  new-married  man  !  "  added  Ste- 
mund. 

The  man  smiled,  and  said,  "  '  I  think  I  will 
stay  here  for  the  sake  of  my  foot,'  said  the  fox, 
when  he  had  been  caught  in  the  trap." 

Marit  looked  at  him,  and  then  at  the  others, 
and  a  slight  flush  overspread  her  face ;  other- 
wise it  was  unchanged. 

"I  suppose  your  wife  will  go  with  you?" 
said  Sremund. 

"  No,  she  will  not,  either.' 

"  They  say  it  is  easy  to  gain  position  in 
America,"  said  Thorbjorn ;  he  felt  that  the 
conversation  should  not  be  allowed  to  come  to 
a  stand-still. 

"Oh  —  yes,"  said  the  man. 

"  But  Nordhoug  is  a  good  gard,"  remarked 
Sasmund. 

"  There    are   too    many  people   on    it,"    re- 
plied   the    man.      His    wife    looked     at    him 
again.     "  One  stands  in  the  way  of  the  other,' 
be  added. 


SYNNOVE   SOLBAKKEN.  185 

"  Well,  good  luck  on  your  journey,"  said 
Ssemund,  and  took  bis  hand.  "  The  Lord  grant 
you  what  you  wish  to  find ! " 

Thorbjorn  looked  his  old  school-mate  ear- 
nestly in  the  eye.  "  I  will  talk  with  you  by 
and  by,"  said  he. 

"It  is  good  to  have  some  one  to  talk  with," 
said  the  man,  and  scraped  the  bottom  of  the 
cart  with  his  whip. 

"Do  come  over  to  our  house,"  said  Marit ; 
and  Thorbjorn,  as  well  as  Saemund,  looked  up 
in  surprise  ;  they  had  really  forgotten  that  she 
had  so  pleasant  a  voice. 

They  drove  on ;  the  cart  moved  slowly 
away ;  a  little  cloud  of  dust  encircled  them,  — 
the  evening  sun  fell  directly  on  it ;  against 
his  wadmal  clothes  her  silken  kerchief  glist- 
ened.    They  came  to  a  hill,  and  disappeared. 

The  father  and  son  walked  on  for  a  long 
time  before  they  said  anything. 

"  I  have  a  foreboding  that  it  will  be  long  be- 
fore he  returns,"  observed  Thorbjorn,  finally. 

"  That  is  best,  I  suppose,"  remarked  S33- 
mund,  "  when  one  has  not  secured  happiness 
at  home  ;  "  and  once  more  they  walked  silently 
on. 

"You  are  going  past  the  wheat  field,"  said 
Thorbjorn. 


186  synnOye  solbakken. 

"We  can  look  at  that  on  our  way  back," 
and  they  went  farther  on.  Thorbjorn  did  not 
altogether  like  to  ask  where  they  were  going; 
for  they  had  now  passed  the  Granlid  grounds. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

Guttoem  and  Karen  Solbakken  had  already 
finished  their  dinner  when  Synnove,  flushed  an  I 
out  of  breath,  entered. 

"  Why,  my  dear  child,  where  have'  you 
been  ?  "  asked  her  mother. 

"  I  stayed  behind  with  Ingrid,"  answered 
Synnove,  and  remained  standing,  while  she 
took  off  a  couple  of  kerchiefs.  Her  father  was 
searching  in  the  cupboard  for  a  book. 

"  What  could  you  two  have  to  talk  about 
that  took  such  a  long  time  ?  " 

"  Oh,  not  anything." 

"  Then  it  would  have  been  better  if  you  had 
kept  with  the  church  people,  my  child."  Ka- 
ren got  up  and  placed  Synnove's  dinner  before 
her.  When  Synnove  had  taken  her  seat  at  the 
table,  and  her  mother  had  sat  down  directly 
opposite,  the  latter  said,  "  I  suppose  there  were 
others  you  were  talking  with." 

"  Yes,  there  were  many,"  replied  Synnove. 

"  The  child  may  surely  be  allowed  to  talk 
with  folks,"  said  Guttorm. 


188  SYNNOVE   SOLBAKKEN. 

"  To  be  sure  she  may,"  said  the  mother, 
rather  more  gently ;  "  but  still  she  ought  to 
come  home  with  her  parents." 

To  this  no  reply  was  made. 

"  It  was  a  blessed  church  day,"  remarked  the 
mother.  "  It  does  me  good  to  see  the  young 
folks  come  forward  in  church." 

"It  makes  one  think  of  one's  own  children," 
said  Guttorm. 

"  You  are  right  there,"  said  the  mother,  and 
sighed.  "  No  one  can  tell  how  things  will  go 
with  them." 

Guttorm  sat  silent  for  a  long  time.  "  We 
have  much  to  thank  God  for,"  said  he  at  last ; 
"  He  has  allowed  us  to  keep  one  of  ours." 

The  mother  sat  drawing  her  finger  along  the 
table,  and  did  not  look  up.  "  She  is  our  great- 
est joy,"  said  she,  softly ;  "  and  she  has  done 
well,"  she  added,  still  more  softly.  There  fol- 
lowed a  long  silence. 

"  Yes,  she  has  given  us  much  happiness,"  said 
Guttorm ;  and  later,  in  a  soft  voice,  "  The 
Lord  make  her  happy  !  " 

The  mother  was  still  drawing  her  finger  along 
the  table ;  there  fell  now  a  tear  upon  it,  which 
she  kept  wiping  away. 

"  Why  are  you  not  eating  ?  "  said  the  father, 
looking  up,  a  little  while  later. 


SYNNOVE   SOLBAKKEN.  189 

"  Thank  you,  I  have  done,"  replied  Synnove. 

"But  you  have  not  eaten  anything,"  now 
spoke  up  the  mother,  too  ;  "and  you  have  had 
a  long  walk." 

"  I  am  not  able  to,"  said  Synnove,  and  bus- 
ied herself  with  an  end  of  her  kerchief. 

"  Eat,  my  child,"  said  the  father. 

"  I  cannot,"  said  Synnove,  and  burst  into 
tears. 

"  But,  dear,  why  are  you  crying  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  know,"  and  she  sobbed. 

"  She  does  cry  so  easily,"  said  the  mother. 

The  father  got  up  and  walked  to  the  win- 
dow. "  There  are  two  men  coming  up  this 
way,"  said  he. 

"  Why  —  is  that  so,  at  this  time  of  day  ?  " 
inquired  the  mother,  and  she  too  went  to  the 
window.  They  looked  for  a  long  time  down 
the  hill. 

"Dear,  who  can  it  be?"  said  Karen,  at  last, 
but  not  quite  as  though  she  were  seeking  in- 
formation. 

"  I  do  not  know,"  replied  Guttorm,  and  they 
stood  and  watched. 

"  Really,  I  cannot  undei'stand  it,"  said  she. 

"  Nor  I  either,"  said  he. 

The  men  came  nearer. 

"It  must  be  they,  nevertheless,"  said  she, 
finally. 


190  SYNNOVE   SOLBAKKEN. 

"  Yes,  I  suppose  so,"  said  Guttorm. 

The  men  came  nearer  and  nearer.  The  elder 
of  the  two  paused  and  looked  back ;  the  younger 
one  did  the  same  ;  then  they  continued  onward. 

"  Can  you  imagine  what  they  want?  "  asked 
Karen,  in  about  the  same  way  as  the  first  time. 

"  No,  I  cannot,"  replied  Guttorm. 

The  mother  turned,  went  over  to  the  table, 
removed  the  dishes,  and  cleared  up  a  little, 
"  You  had  better  put  on  your  kerchief,  my 
child,"  said  she  to  Synnove ;  "  for  here  come 
some  strangers." 

Scarcely  had  she  said  this  before  S^emund 
opened  the  door  and  came  in,  Thorbjorn  di- 
rectly behind  him.  "  Bless  the  company  !  " 
said  Sfemund,  paused  a  little  at  the  door,  then 
went  quietly  to  greet  those  within  ;  Thorbjorn 
followed.  They  came  last  to  Synnove,  who 
still  stood  in  a  corner,  with  her  kerchief  in  her 
hand,  and  did  not  know  whether  she  should 
put  it  on  or  not  ;  indeed,  perhaps  scarcely 
knew  that  she  held  it  in  her  hands. 

"  Pray,  be  seated,"  urged  the  mistress  of  the 
house. 

"  Thank  you ;  it  is  not  far  over  here,"  said 
SaBmund,  but  sat  down  nevertheless.  Thor- 
bjorn took  a  seat  by  his  side. 

"  We  lost  sight  of  you  altogether  at  the 
church  to-day,"  said  Karen. 


SYNNOVE  solbakken.  191 

"  Yes ;  I  was  looking  for  you,"  said  Ssemund. 

"  There  were  many  people  there,"  said  Gut- 
tor  m. 

"  A  great  many,"  repeated  Sosmund  ;  "and 
it  was  a  fine  church  day,  too." 

"  Yes,  we  were  just  talking  about  it,"  said 
Karen. 

"  A  confirmation  is  a  very  touching  sight  to 
any  one  who  has  children  himself,"  added  Gut- 
torm  ;  his  wife  moved  a  little  on  the  bench. 

"  That  it  is,"  said  Sseinund ;  "  it  sets  one  to 
thinking  seriously  about  them ;  and  that  is 
why  I  wandered  over  here  this  evening,"  he 
added,  looking  about  him  with  an  air  of  se- 
curity, and  he  changed  his  quid  of  tobacco,  lay- 
ing the  old  one  cautiously  aside  in  his  brass  to- 
bacco-box. Guttorm,  Karen,  and  Thorbjorn,  let 
their  eyes  wander  in  different  directions. 

"  I  thought  I  would  accompany  Thorbjorn 
over  here,"  began  Ssemund  slowly;  "  it  would 
take  him  a  long  time  to  get  here  alone,  I  fancy, 
—  and  he  would  make  poor  work  of  it,  besides, 
I  am  afraid."  He  cast  a  sly  look  at  Synnove, 
who  was  conscious  of  it.  "  Now,  it  is  just  this 
way :  he  has  set  his  heart  on  Synnove  from  the 
time  he  was  old  enough  to  understand  anything 
about  such  matters  ;  and  it  is  not  very  sure  but 
she  also  has  set  her  heart  on  him.     And  so  I 


192  SYNNOVE   SOLBAKKEN. 

think  it  is  best  for  tliem  to  come  together.  I 
was  little  in  favor  of  this  in  the  days  when 
I  saw  he  was  scarcely  able  to  manage  himself, 
to  say  nothing  of  other  things,  but  now  I  think 
I  can  vouch  for  him ;  and  if  I  cannot  she  can, 
for  her  power  is  now  the  greatest,  I  suppose. 
What  do  you  two  think  of  our  making  a  match 
for  them  ?  There  is  no  need  of  any  haste,  but  I 
do  not  know,  either,  why  we  should  wait.  You, 
Guttorm,  are  pretty  well  off;  I,  to  be  sure, 
rather  less  so,  and  have  more  to  divide  among; 
but  I  fancy  that  will  be  all  right.  You  will 
have  to  say  now  what  you  think  of  this,  —  I 
will  ask  her  afterwards  ;  for  I  am  pretty  sure  I 
know  what  she  wishes." 

Thus  spoke  Saemund.  Guttorm  sat  in  a  stoop- 
ing position  ;  kept  alternately  placing  his  hands 
one  above  the  other ;  made  several  signs  to  raise 
his  head,  each  time  drawing  his  breath  more 
heavily,  but  did  not  succeed  until  the  fourth  or 
fifth  time  ;  then  at  last  lie  straightened  his  back, 
stroked  his  knees  up  and  down,  looked  over  at 
his  wife,  so  that  the  glance  now  and  then  took 
in  Synnove.  The  latter  did  not  stir ;  no  one 
could  see  her  face.  Karen  sat  drawing  her  fin- 
ger on  the  table. 

"  The  fact  is  —  it  is  a  fine  offer,"  said  she. 

"  Yes,  and  it  seems  to  me  we  might  as  well 


SYNNOVE   SOLBAKKEN.  193 

accept  it  with  thanks,"  said  Guttorm,  in  a  loud 
voice,  as  though  he  were  considerably  relieved, 
and  looked  from  her  to  Ssemund,  who  had  folded 
his  arms  and  leaned  up  against  the  wall. 

"We  have  only  this  one  daughter,"  added 
Karen;  "we  have  to  consider  a  little." 

"  There  is  reason  in  that,"  said  Ssemund ; 
"  but  I  cannot  see  what  objection  there  can  be 
to  giving  an  answer  at  once,  as  the  bear  said,  — 
he  had  been  asking  the  peasant  whether  he 
could  have  his  cow." 

"  We  might  as  well  answer  at  once,"  re- 
marked Guttorm,  and  glanced  at  his  wife. 

"  What  I  thought  was  that  perhaps  Thor- 
bjorn  might  be  a  little  wild,"  said  she,  but  did 
not  look  up. 

"  That,  I  think,  has  righted  itself,"  suggested 
Guttorm  ;  "  you  know  yourself  what  you  said 
to-day." 

The  husband  and  wife  exchanged  looks  ;  this 
lasted  probably  a  whole  minute.  "  If  we  could 
only  be  sure  of  him,"  said  she. 

"  Well,"  said  Ssemund,  joining  in  the  con- 
versation again,  "  so  far  as  that  matter  goes,  I 
can  only  say  what  I  have  said  before  ;  it  is  all 
right  with  the  load  when  she  holds  the  reins. 
It  is  astonishing  what  power  she  has  over  him ; 
I  had  proof  of  that  when  he  lay  ill  at  home, 

13 


194  SYNNOVE   SOLBAKKEN. 

and  did  not  know  how  things  were  going  with 
him,  —  whether  he  would  get  well  or  not." 

"  You  should  not  be  so  hard  to  please,"  said 
Guttorm.  "You  know  what  she  wants  herself, 
and  you  know  it  is  for  her  we  live !  " 

Then  Synnove  looked  up  for  the  first  time, 
and  turned  a  pair  of  large  thankful  eyes  on  her 
father. 

"  Oh,  yes,"  sighed  Karen,  after  a  moment's 
silence ;  and  now  she  drew  her  finger  along  the 
table  a  little  more  vigorously  than  before.  "  If 
I  bave  held  out  against  it  the  longest,  it  was 
because  I  meant  well  by  it,  I  suppose.  Per- 
haps I  was  not  so  hard  as  my  words."  She 
looked  up  and  smiled ;  but  the  tears  would 
come. 

At  this  Guttorm  arose.  "  Then,  in  God's 
name,  that  has  come  to  pass  that  I  have  most 
wanted  of  all  things  in  the  world,"  said  he,  and 
crossed  the  floor  to  Synnove. 

"  I  have  never  doubted  that,"  said  Scemund, 
also  rising.  "  Those  who  are  meant  to  come  to- 
gether come  together."     He  crossed  the  floor. 

"  Well,  what  have  you  to  say  to  this,  my 
child?  "  said  the  mother,  she  too  going  over  to 
Synnove. 

She  still  kept  her  seat ;  the  rest  stood  about 
her,  all  except  Thorbjorn,  who  sat  where  he 
had  first  taken  his  place. 


i«  Angel.- 


SYNNOVE   SOLBAKKEN.  195 

"  You  must  get  up,  my  child,"  whispered  the 
mother  to  her;  whereupon  she  arose,  smiled, 
turned  away,  and  wept.  "  The  Lord  be  with 
you  now  and  always  ! "  said  the  mother,  threw 
her  arms  around  her,  and  wept  too.  The  two 
men  walked  across  the  floor,  each  in  his  own 
direction.  "  You  will  have  to  go  over  to  him," 
said  the  mother,  still  weeping,  as  she  let  go  of 
her,  and  stole  a  loving  glance  at  her. 

Synnove  took  a  step  forward ;  then  stood 
still,  because  she  could  not  get  any  farther. 
Thorbjorn  sprang  up  and  went  toward  her, 
seized  her  hand,  held  it,  knew  not  what  more 
to  do,  and  stood  there  holding  it  until  she 
gently  withdrew  it.  Then  they  stood  silent 
by  each  other's  side. 

The  door  opened  noiselessly ;  a  head  was 
thrust  into  the  room.  "Is  Synnove  there?" 
was  asked,  in  a  cautious  voice  ;  it  was  Ingrid 
Granliden. 

k'  Yes,  she  is  here ;  come  in ! "  cried  the  father. 
Ingrid  seemed  to  hesitate  a  little.  "  Come  now ; 
all  is  well  here,"  he  added.  They  all  looked  at 
her. 

She  appeared  rather  embarrassed.  "  There 
may  be  somebody  else  outside,"  said  she. 

"  Who  is  it?"  inquired  Guttorm. 

'*  It  is  mother,"  replied  she,  softly. 


196  SYNNOVE  SOLBAKKEN. 

"  Let  her  come  in  !  "  said  four  voices  at  once. 

And  the  Solbakken  wife  went  to  the  door, 
while  the  others  exchanged  pleased  glances. 

"  You  may  as  well  come  in,  mother,"  they 
heard  Ingrid  say.  And  so  Ingebjorg  Granli- 
den,  in  her  glittering  head  gear,  entered. 

"  I  knew  what  was  going  on,"  said  she,  "al- 
though Saemund  never  can  tell  anything.  And 
so  Ingrid  and  I  could  not  help  coming  over 
here." 

"  Yes,  it  is  just  as  you  want  it  to  be  here," 
said  Seeinund,  and  moved  so  that  she  might  ap- 
proach. 

"  God  bless  you  for  drawing  him  over  to 
you ! "  said  she  to  Synnove,  putting  her  arm 
about  her  neck,  and  patting  her.  "  You  have 
been  very  faithful,  my  child  ;  it  has  ended  after 
all  as  you  desired,"  and  she  stroked  her  cheek 
and  hair.  Her  tears  ran  down  over  her  face  ;  she 
paid  no  heed  to  these,  but  carefully  wiped  away 
Synnove's.  "  Yes,  it  is  a  fine  boy  you  are  get- 
ting," added  she,  "  and  now  I  feel  perfectly 
safe  about  him,"  and  she  embraced  her  once 
more. 

"  I  tell  you,  mother  has  found  out  more  in 
her  kitchen  about  this  matter,"  said  Saemund, 
"  than  we  others  who  have  been  right  in  the 
midst  of  it." 


SYNNOVE   SOLBAKKEN.  197 

The  weeping  and  emotion  were  calming  down 
a  little.  The  housewife  began  to  bethink  her 
of  the  evening  meal,  and  spoke  to  little  Ingrid 
about  helping  her,  "  for  Synnove  is  not  fit  for 
it  this  evening."  And  so  Ingrid  and  she  set 
to  work  to  cook  the  cream-porridge.  The  men 
got  to  talking  about  that  year's  harvesting, 
and  what  its  results  might  be.  Thorbjorn  had 
taken  his  seat  by  the  window,  and  Synnove 
glided  over  to  him  and  laid  her  hand  on  his 
shoulder. 

"  "What  are  you  looking  at  ?  "  she  whispered. 

He  turned  his  head,  gave  her  a  long,  tender 
look,  then  directed  his  gaze  out  of  the  window 
again.  "  I  am  looking  over  at  Granliden,"  said 
he ;  "  it  seems  so  strange  to  look  at  it  from 
here." 


ARNE. 


PKEFACE. 


"  Arne  "  was  written  in  1858,  one  year  later  than 
"  Synnove  Solbakken,"  and  is  thought  by  many  to 
be  Bjornson's  best  story,  though  it  is,  in  my  opinion, 
surpassed  in  simplicity  of  style  and  delicate  analysis 
of  motives,  feelings,  and  character  by  "  A  Happy 
Boy,"  his  third  long  story,  the  translation  of  which  is 
now  in  progress,  and  which  will  follow  this  volume. 

Norway's  most  eminent  composers  have  written 
music  for  many  of  Bjornson's  poems,  and  made  them 
favorite  songs,  not  only  with  the  cultivated  classes, 
but  also  with  the  common  people.  To  the  songs 
in  "  Arne  "  melodies  were  composed  by  Bjornson's 
brilliant  cousin,  Rikard  Nordraak,  who  died  in  1865, 
only  twenty-three  years  old,  but  who  had  already  won 
a  place  as  one  of  Norway's  greatest  composers. 

"With  a  view  of  popularizing  these  melodies  in  this 
country,  all  the  poems  have  been  given  in  precisely 
the  same  metre  and  rhyme  as  the  original,  and  those 
caring  to  know  how  the  tunes  are  supposed  to  have 
sounded  on  the  lips  of  Arne  are  referred  to  "  The 
Norway  Music  Album,"  edited  by  Auber  Forestier 
and  myself,  and  published  by  Oliver  Ditson  &  Co.  of 


6  PREFACE. 

Boston.  In  it  will  be  found,  together  with  the  origi- 
nal and  English  words,  Rikard  Nordraak's  music  to 
the  following  five  songs  from  "  Arne  "  :  — 

1.  "  Oh,  my  pet  lamb,  lift  your  head,"  from  chap- 
ter v. 

2.  "  It  was  such  a  pleasant,  sunny  day,"  from  chap- 
ter viii. 

3.  "  The  tree's  early  leaf-buds  were  bursting  their 
brown,"  from  chapter  xii. 

4.  "  Oh  how  I  wonder  what  I  should  see 

Over  the  lofty  mountains,"  *  from  chapter 
xiv. 

5.  "  He  went  in  the  forest  the  whole  day  long," 
from  chapter  xiv. 

Mr.  Bjbrnson  returned  to  Norway  in  May,  1881 ; 
he  was  welcomed  with  enthusiasm,  and  on  the  17th 
of  the  same  month,  Norway's  natal  day,  he  delivered 
the  oration  at  the  dedication  of  the  Wergeland  Monu- 
ment to  a  gathering  of  more  than  ten  thousand  peo- 
ple. His  visit  to  America  was  a  brilliant  success. 
His  addresses  to  his  countrymen  in  America  were 
chiefly  on  the  constitutional  struggle  of  Norway,  on 
which  subject  an  article  by  him  will  be  found  in  the 
February  (1881)  issue  of  "  Scribner's  Monthly."  As 
a  souvenir  of  his  pleasant  sojourn  among  us,  I  will 
here  attempt  an  English  translation  of  the  poem 
"  Olaf  Trygvason  "  with  which  he  usually  greeted  his 
hearers  at  his  lectures.  It  is  one  of  his  most  popular 
songs. 

1  To  this  there  will  also  be  found  in  the  Album   a  melody  by 
Halfdan  Kjerulf. 


PREFACE.  « 

Spreading  sails  o'er  the  North  Sea  speed; 
High  on  deck  stands  at  dawn,  indeed, 
Erling  Skjalgson  from  Sole. 
Spying  o'er  the  sea  towards  Denmark : 
"  Wherefore  comes  not  Olaf  Trygvason  ?  " 

Six  and  fifty  the  dragons  are  ; 
Sails  are  furled  ....  toward  Denmark  stare 
Sun-scorched  men  ....  then  rises : 
"Where  stays  the  King's  Long  Serpent? 
Wherefore  comes  not  Olaf  Trygvason  ?  " 

But  when  sun  on  the  second  day 
Saw  the  watery,  mastless  way, 
Like  a  great  storm  it  sounded : 
"Where  stays  the  King's  Long  Serpent  ? 
Wherefore  comes  not  Olaf  Trygvason  ?  " 

Quiet,  quiet,  in  that  same  hour 
Stood  they  all ;  for  with  endless  power, 
Groaning,  the  sea  was  splashing : 
"Taken  the  King's  Long  Serpent! 
Fallen  is  Olaf  Trygvason!  " 

Thus  for  more  than  an  hundred  years 
Sounds  in  every  seaman's  ears, 
Chiefly  in  moon-lit  watches  : 
"  Taken  the  King's  Long  Serpent! 
Fallen  is  Olaf  Trygvason !  " 

The  reader  will  not  fail  to  be  reminded  by  this 
song  by  Bjornson  of  Longfellow's  "  Saga  of  King 
Olaf  "  (the  Musician's  Tale),  in  his  "  Tales  of  a  Way- 
side Inn,"  and  especially  of  those  beautiful  poems  in 
this  collection,  "  The  Building  of  the  Long  Serpent," 
and  "  The  Crew  of  the  Long  Serpent." 

Hoping  the  translation  of  these  stories  and  songs 


8  PREFACE. 

will  enable  the  reader  to  appreciate  in  some  degree 
the  secret  of  Bjornson's  great  popularity  in  the  fair 
land  that  lies  beneath  the  eternal  snow  and  the  un- 
setting  sun,  I  now  offer  "  Arne  "  to  the  American 
public. 

EASMUS  B.  ANDERSON. 
Asgaed,  Madison,  Wis., 
August,  1881. 


CHAPTER  I. 

There  was  a  deep  gorge  between  two 
mountains  ;  through  this  gorge  a  large,  full 
stream  flowed  heavily  over  a  rough  and  stony 
bottom.  Both  sides  were  high  and  steep, 
and  so  one  side  was  bare ;  but  close  to  its 
foot,  and  so  near  the  stream  that  the  latter 
sprinkled  it  with  moisture  every  spring  and 
autumn,  stood  a  group  of  fresh-looking  trees, 
gazing  upward  and  onward,  yet  unable  to  ad- 
vance this  way  or  that. 

"  What  if  we  should  clothe  the  mountain  ?  " 
said  the  juniper  one  day  to  the  foreign  oak,  to 
which  it  stood  nearer  than  all  the  others.  The 
oak  looked  down  to  find  out  who  it  was  that 
spoke,  and  then  it  looked  up  again  without 
deigning  a  reply.  The  river  rushed  along  so 
violently  that  it  worked  itself  into  a  white 
foam  ;  the  north  wind  had  forced  its  way 
through  the  gorge  and  shrieked  in  the  clefts 
of  the  rocks  ;  the  naked  mountain,  with  its 
great  weight,  hung  heavily  over  and  felt  cold. 
"What  if  we  should  clothe  the   mountain?" 


10  ARNE. 

said  the  juniper  to  the  fir  on  the  other  side. 
"  If  anybody  is  to  do  it,  I  suppose  it  must  be 
we,"  said  the  fir,  taking  hold  of  its  beard  and 
glancing  toward  the  birch.  "  What  do  you 
think?"  But  the  birch  peered  cautiously  up 
at  the  mountain,  which  hung  over  it  so  threat- 
eningly that  it  seemed  as  if  it  could  scarcely 
breathe.  "  Let  us  clothe  it  in  God's  name  !  " 
said  the  birch.  And  so,  though  there  were  but 
these  three,  they  undertook  to  clothe  the  mount- 
ain.    The  juniper  went  first. 

When  they  had  gone  a  little  way,  they  met 
the  heather.  The  juniper  seemed  as  though 
about  to  go  past  it.  "  Nay,  take  the  heather 
along,"  said  the  fir.  And  the  heather  joined 
them.  Soon  it  began  to  glide  on  before  the 
juniper.  "  Catch  hold  of  me,"  said  the  heather. 
The  juniper  did  so,  and  where  there  was  only  a 
wee  crevice,  the  heather  thrust  in  a  finger, 
and  where  it  first  had  placed  a  finger,  the  ju- 
niper took  hold  with  its  whole  hand.  They 
crawled  and  crept  along,  the  fir  laboring  on  be- 
hind, the  birch  also.  "  This  is  well  worth  do- 
ing," said  the  birch. 

But  the  mountain  began  to  ponder  on  what 
manner  of  insignificant  objects  these  might  be 
that  were  clambering  up  over  it.  And  after  it 
had  been  considering  the  matter  a  few  hundred 


ARNE.  11 

years  it  sent  a  little  brook  down  to  inquire.  It 
was  yet  in  the  time  of  the  spring  freshets,  and 
the  brook  stole  on  until  it  reached  the  heather. 
"  Dear,  dear  heather,  cannot  yon  let  me  pass  ;  I 
am  so  small."  The  heather  was  very  busy; 
only  raised  itself  a  little  and  pressed  onward. 
In,  under,  and  onward  went  the  brook.  "  Dear, 
dear  jnniper,  cannot  yon  let  me  pass  ;  I  am  so 
small."  The  juniper  looked  sharply  at  it ;  but 
if  the  heather  had  let  it  pass,  why,  in  all  rea- 
son, it  must  do  so  too.  Under  it  and  onward 
went  the  brook ;  and  now  came  to  the  spot 
where  the  fir  stood  puffing  on  the  hill-side. 
"  Dear,  dear  fir,  cannot  you  let  me  pass  ;  I  am 
really  so  small,"  said  the  brook,  —  and  it  kissed 
the  fir's  foot  and  made  itself  so  very  sweet. 
The  fir  became  bashful  at  this,  and  let  it  pass. 
But  the  birch  raised  itself  before  the  brook 
asked  it.  "  Hi,  hi,  hi !  "  said  the  brook  and 
grew.  "  Ha,  ha,  ha  !  "  said  the  brook  and  grew. 
"  Ho,  ho,  ho  !  "  said  the  brook,  and  flung  the 
heather  and  the  juniper  and  the  fir  and  the 
birch  flat  on  their  faces  and  backs,  up  and 
down  these  great  hills.  The  mountain  sat  for 
many  hundred  years  musing  on  whether  it  had 
not  smiled  a  little  that  day. 

It  was  plain  enough :  the  mountain  did  not 
want  to   be   clad.     The   heather   fretted  over 


12  ARNE. 

this  until  it  grew  green  again,  and  then  it 
started  forward.  "  Fresh  courage !  "  said  the 
heather. 

The  juniper  had  half  raised  itself  to  look  at 
the  heather,  and  continued  to  keep  this  posi- 
tion, until  at  length  it  stood  upright.  It 
scratched  its  head  and  set  forth  again,  taking 
such  a  vigorous  foothold  that  it  seemed  as 
though  the  mountain  must  feel  it.  "  If  you 
will  not  have  me,  then  I  will  have  you."  The 
fir  crooked  its  toes  a  little  to  find  out  whether 
they  were  whole,  then  lifted  one  foot,  found  it 
whole,  then  the  other,  which  proved  also  to  be 
whole,  then  both  of  them.  It  first  investigated 
the  ground  it  had  been  over,  next  where  it 
had  been  lying,  and  finally  where  it  should  go. 
After  this  it  began  to  wend  its  way  slowly 
along,  and  acted  just  as  though  it  had  never 
fallen.  The  birch  had  become  most  wretch- 
edly soiled,  but  now  rose  up  and  made  itself 
tidy.  Then  they  sped  onward,  faster  and  faster, 
upward  and  on  either  side,  in  sunshine  and  in 
rain.  "  What  in  the  world  can  this  be  ?  "  said 
the  mountain,  all  glittering  with  dew,  as  the 
summer  sun  shone  down  on  it,  —  the  birds  sang, 
the  wood-mouse  piped,  the  hare  hojjped  along, 
and  the  ermine  hid  itself  and  screamed. 

Then  the  day  came  when  the  heather  could 


ARNE.  13 

peep  with  one  eye  over  the  edge  of  the  mount- 
ain. "  Oh  dear,  oh  dear,  oh  dear !  "  said  the 
heather,  and  away  it  went.  "Dear  me!  what 
is  it  the  heather  sees  ?  "  said  the  juniper,  and 
moved  on  until  it  could  peer  up.  "  Oh  dear, 
oh  dear  !  "  it  shrieked,  and  was  gone.  "  What 
is  the  matter  with  the  juniper  to-day  ?  "  said 
the  fir,  and  took  long  strides  onward  in  the 
heat  of  the  sun.  Soon  it  could  raise  itself  on 
its  toes  and  peep  up.  "  Oh  dear!  "  Branches 
and  needles  stood  on  end  in  wonderment.  It 
worked  its  way  forward,  came  up,  and  was  gone. 
"  What  is  it  all  the  others  see,  and  not  I  ?  " 
said  the  birch ;  and,  lifting  well  its  skirts,  it 
tripped  after.  It  stretched  its  whole  head  up 
at  once.  "  Oh,  —  oh  !  —  is  not  here  a  great 
forest  of  fir  and  heather,  of  juniper  and  birch, 
standing  upon  the  table-land  waiting  for  us  ?  " 
said  the  birch;  and  its  leaves  quivered  in  the 
sunshine  so  that  the  dew  trembled.  "  Aye, 
this  is  what  it  is  to  reach  the  goal ! "  said  the 
juniper. 


CHAPTER  II. 

Up  on  the  hill-top  it  was  that  Arne  was 
born.  His  mother's  name  was  Margit,  and  she 
was  the  only  child  at  the  houseman's  place,  — 
Kampen.1  Once,  in  her  eighteenth  year,  she 
stayed  too  long  at  a  dance ;  her  companions  had 
left  her,  and  so  Margit  thought  that  the  way 
home  would  be  just  as  long  whether  she  waited 
until  the  dancing  was  over  or  not.  And  thus 
it  happened  that  she  kept  her  seat  until  the 
fiddler,  known  as  Nils  the  tailor,  suddenly  laid 
aside  his  fiddle,  as  was  his  wont  when  drink 
took  possession  of  him,  let  others  troll  the 
tune,  seized  the  prettiest  girl,  moved  his  foot 
as  evenly  as  the  rhythm  of  a  song,  and  with 
his  boot-heel  took  the  hat  from  the  head  of 
the  tallest  person  present.     "  Ho  !  "  said  he. 

When  Margit  went  home  that  evening,  the 
moon-beams  played  on  the  snow  with  most  won- 
drous beauty.  After  she  had  reached  her  bed- 
chamber she  was  moved  to  look  out  once  more. 

1  The  top  of  a  hill  is  called  in  Norwegian  "Kamp,"  and  the 
Houseman's  place  took  its  name  from  its  situation. 


ARNE.  15 

She  took  off  her  boddice,  but  remained  stand- 
ing with  it  in  her  hand.  Then  she  felt  that 
she  was  cold,  closed  the  door  hastily,  undressed, 
and  nestled  in  under  the  robe.  That  night 
Margit  dreamed  about  a  great  red  cow  that  had 
wandered  into  the  field.  She  went  to  drive 
it  out,  but  though  she  tried  hard,  she  could  not 
stir  from  the  spot ;  the  cow  stood  calmly  graz- 
ing there  until  it  grew  plump  and  well  fed, 
and  every  now  and  then  it  looked  at  her,  with 
large,  heavy  eyes. 

The  next  time  there  was  a  dance  in  the  par- 
ish Margit  was  present.  She  cared  little  for 
dancing  that  evening  ;  she  kept  her  seat  to 
listen  to  the  music,  and  it  seemed  strange  to 
her  that  there  were  not  others  also  who  pre- 
ferred this.  But  when  the  evening  had  worn 
on,  the  fiddler  arose  and  wanted  to  dance. 
All  at  once  he  went  directly  to  Margit  Kam- 
pen.  She  scarcely  knew  what  she  was  about, 
but  she  danced  with  Nils  the  tailor. 

Soon  the  weather  grew  warm,  and  there  was 
no  more  dancing.  That  spring  Margit  took 
such  interest  in  a  little  lamb  that  had  fallen 
ill,  that  her  mother  almost  thought  she  was 
overdoing  it. 

"  It  is  only  a  little  lamb,"  said  the  mother. 

"  Yes,  but  it  is  ill,"  replied  Margit. 


16  ARNE. 

It  was  some  time  since  she  had  been  to 
church  ;  she  wished  to  have  her  mother  go,  she 
said,  and  some  one  must  be  at  home.  One 
Sunday,  later  in  the  summer,  the  weather  was 
so  fine  that  the  hay  could  well  be  left  out  for 
twenty-four  hours,  and  the  mother  said  that 
now  they  surely  might  both  go.  Margit  could 
not  reasonably  object  to  this,  and  got  ready 
for  church  ;  but  when  they  were  so  far  on  their 
way  that  they  could  hear  the  church-bells, 
she  burst  into  tears.  The  mother  grew  deathly 
pale:  but  they  went  on,  the  mother  in  ad- 
vance, Margit  following,  listened  to  the  ser- 
mon, joined  in  all  the  hymns  to  the  very  last, 
followed  the  prayer,  and  heard  the  bell  ring 
before  they  left.  But  when  they  were  seated 
in  the  family-room  at  home  again,  the  mother 
took  Margit's  face  between  her  hands  and 
said :  — 

"  Hide  nothing  from  me,  my  child." 
There  came  another  winter  when  Maredt  did 
not  dance.  But  Nils  the  tailor  fiddled,  took 
more  strong  drink  than  ever,  and  always,  to- 
ward the  close  of  the  evening,  swung  the  pret- 
tiest girl  at  the  party.  In  those  days,  it  was 
told  as  a  certain  fact  that  he  could  marry 
whom  he  pleased  among  the  daughters  of  the 
first  gard-owners  in  the  parish  ;    some  added 


ARNE.  17 

that  Eli  Boen  herself  had  courted  him  for  her 
daughter  Birgit,  who  was  madly  in  love  with 
him. 

But  just  at  that  time  an  infant  of  the  house- 
man's daughter  at  Kampen  was  brought  to  bap- 
tism ;  it  was  christened  Arne,  and  tailor  Nils 
was  spoken  of  as  its  father. 

The  evening  of  the  same  day  Nils  was  at  a 
large  wedding  ;  there  he  got  drunk.  He  would 
not  play,  but  danced  all  the  time,  and  scarcely 
brooked  having  others  on  the  floor.  But  when 
he  crossed  to  Birgit  Boen  and  asked  her  to 
dance,  she  declined.  He  gave  a  short  laugh, 
turned  on  his  heel,  and  caught  hold  of  the  first 
girl  he  encountered.  She  resisted.  He  looked 
down  ;  it  was  a  little  dark  maiden  who  had 
been  sitting  gazing  fixedly  at  him,  and  who 
was  now  pale.  Bowing  lightly  over  her,  he 
whispered,  — 

"  Will  you  not  dance  with  me,  Karen  ?  " 

She  made  no  reply.  He  asked  once  more. 
Then  she  answered  in  a  whisper,  as  he  had 
asked, — 

"  That  dance  might  go  farther  than  I 
wished." 

He  drew  slowly  back,  but  once  in  the  middle 
of  the  floor,  he  made  a  spring  and  danced  the 

2 


18  ARNE. 

hailing  1  alone.  No  one  else  was  dancing;  the 
others  stood  looking  on  in  silence. 

Afterwards  he  went  out  in  the  barn,  and 
there  he  lay  down  and  wept. 

Margit  kept  at  home  with  the  little  boy. 
She  heard  about  Nils,  how  he  went  from  dance 
to  dance,  and  she  looked  at  the  child  and 
wept, — looked  at  him  again  and  was  happy. 
The  first  thing  she  taught  him  was  to  say  papa  ; 
but  this  she  dared  not  do  when  the  mother,  or 
the  grandmother,  as  she  was  henceforth  called, 
chanced  to  be  near.  The  result  of  this  was 
that  it  was  the  grandmother  whom  the  boy 
called  papa.  It  cost  Margit  much  to  break 
him  of  this,  and  thus  she  fostered  in  him  an 
early  shrewdness.  He  was  not  very  large  be- 
fore he  knew  that  Nils  the  tailor  was  his 
father  ,  and  when  he  reached  the  age  in 
which  the  romantic  acquires  a  flavor,  he  be- 
came also  aware  what  sort  of  a  man  tailor 
Nils  was.  The  grandmother  had  strictly  for- 
bidden even  the  mention  of  his  name ;  what 
she  mainly  strove  for  was  to  have  the  house- 
man's place,  Kampen,  become  an  independent 
gard,  so  that  her  daughter  and  her  boy  might 
be  free  from  care.  She  availed  herself  of  the 
gard-owner's  poverty,  effected  the  purchase  of 

1  A  popular  dance  in  two-fourths  time,  described  in  this  chapter. 


ARNE.  19 

the  place,  paid  off  a  portion  of  the  money  each 
year,  and  managed  the  business  like  a  man,  for 
she  had  been  a  widow  for  fourteen  years. 
Kampen  was  a  large  place,  and  had  been  ex- 
tended until  now  it  fed  four  cows,  sixteen 
sheep,  and  a  horse  in  which  she  was  half  owner. 

Nils  the  tailor  meanwhile  took  to  roving 
about  the  parish  ;  his  business  had  fallen  off, 
partly  because  he  felt  less  interest  in  it,  partly 
also  because  he  was  not  liked  as  before.  He 
gave,  therefore,  more  time  to  fiddling  ;  this  led 
oftener  to  drinking  and  thence  to  fighting  and 
evil  days.  There  were  those  who  had  heard 
him  say  he  was  unhappy. 

Arne  might  have  been  about  six  years  old, 
when  one  winter  day  he  was  frolicking  in  the 
bed,  whose  coverlet  he  had  up  for  a  sail,  while 
he  was  steering  with  a  ladle.  The  grandmother 
sat  spinning  in  the  room,  absorbed  in  her  own 
thoughts,  and  nodded  occasionally  as  though 
she  would  make  a  fixed  fact  of  something  she 
was  thinking  about.  The  boy  knew  that  he 
was  unheeded,  and  he  fell  to  singing,  just  as  he 
had  learned  it,  the  rough,  wild  song  about 
tailor  Nils  :  — 

"  Unless  't  was  only  yesterday  hither  first  you  came, 
You've  surely  heard  already  of  Nils  the  tailor's  fame. 

Cl  Unless  't  was  but  this  morning  you  came  among  us  first, 
You've  heard  how  he  knocked  over  tall  Johan  Knutson  Kirst; 


20  ARNE. 

"  How,  in  his  famous  barn-fight  with  Ola  Stor-Johann, 
He  said,  '  Bring  down  your  porridge  when  we  two  fight  again.' 

"  That  fighting  fellow,  Bugge,  a  famous  man  was  he: 
His  name  was  known  all  over  fjord  and  fell  and  sea. 

"  '  Now,  choose  the  place,  you  tailor,  where  I   shall  knock  yov 
down, 
And  then  I  '11  spit  upon  it,  and  there  I  '11  lay  your  crown.' 

"  '  Ah,  only  come  so  near,  I  may  catch  your  scent,  my  man, 
Your  bragging  hurts  nobody;  don't  dream  it  ever  can.' 

"  The  first  round  was  a  poor  one,  and  neither  man  could  beat ; 
But  both  kept  in  their  places,  aud  steady  on  their  feet. 

"  The  second  round,  poor  Bugge  was  beaten  black  and  blue. 
'  Little  Bugge,  are  you  tired?    It 's going  hard  with  you.1 

"  The  third  round,  Bugge  tumbled,  and  bleeding  there  he  lay. 
Now,   Bugge,    where  's  your   bragging  V '     '  Bad   luck   to   mt 
to-day!' "i 

More  the  boy  did  not  sing ;  but  there  were 
two  other  stanzas  which  his  mother  was  not 
likely  to  have  taught  him  :  — 

"  Have  you  seen  a  tree  cast  its  shadow  on  yesterday's  snow? 
Have  you  seen  how  Nils  does  his  smiles  on  the  girls  bestow  ? 

"  Have  you  looked  at  Nils  when  to  dance  he  just  commences  ? 
Come,  my  girl,  you  must  go;  it  is  too  late,  when  you  've  lost 
your  senses." 

These  two  stanzas  the  grandmother  knew, 
and  they  came  all  the  more  distinctly  into  her 
mind  because  they  were  not   sung.     She  said 

1  Translated  by  Augusta  Plesner  and  S-  Rugeley-Powers. 


ARNE.  21 

nothing  to  the  boy  ;  but  to  the  mother  she 
said,  "  Teach  the  boy  well  about  your  own 
shame  ;  do  not  forget  the  last  verses." 

Nils  the  tailor  was  so  broken  down  by 
drink  that  he  was  no  longer  the  man  he  had 
been,  and  some  people  thought  his  end  could 
not  be  far  distant. 

It  so  happened  that  two  American  gentle- 
men were  visiting  in  the  parish,  and  having 
heard  that  a  wedding  was  going  on  in  the 
vicinity,  wanted  to  attend  it,  that  they  might 
learn  the  customs  of  the  country.  Nils  was 
playing  there.  They  gave  each  a  dollar  to  the 
fiddler,  and  asked  for  a  hailing  ;  but  no  one 
would  come  forward  to  dance  it,  however  much 
it  was  urged.  Several  begged  Nils  himself  to 
dance.  "  He  was  best,  after  all,'  they  said. 
He  refused,  but  the  request  became  still  more 
urgent,  and  finally  unanimous.  This  was  what  he 
wanted.  He  gave  his  fiddle  to  another  player, 
took  off  his  jacket  and  cap,  and  stepped  smil- 
ing into  the  middle  of  the  room.  He  was  fol- 
lowed by  the  same  eager  attention  as  of  old, 
and  this  gave  him  his  old  strength.  The 
people  crowded  closely  together,  those  who 
were  farthest  back  climbing  upon  tables  and 
benches.  Some  of  the  girls  were  perched  up 
higher  than  all  the  rest,  and  foremost  among 


22  ARNE. 

these  —  a  tall  girl  with  sunny  brown  hair  of 
a  varying  tint,  with  blue  eyes  deeply  set  be- 
neath a  strong  forehead,  a  large  mouth  that 
often  smiled,  drawing  a  little  to  one  side  as 
it  did  so  —  was  Birgit  Boen.  Nils  saw  her, 
as  he  glanced  up  at  the  beam.  The  music 
struck  up,  a  deep  silence  followed,  and  he 
began.  He  dashed  forward  along  the  floor,  his 
body  inclining  to  one  side,  half  aslant,  keeping 
time  to  the  fiddle.  Crouching  down,  he  bal- 
anced himself,  now  on  one  foot,  now  on  the 
other,  flung  his  legs  crosswise  under  him, 
sprang  up  again,  stood  as  though  about  to  make 
a  fling,  and  then  moved  on  aslant  as  before. 
The  fiddle  was  handled  bv  skillful  fingers,  and 
more  and  more  fire  was  thrown  into  the  tune. 
Nils  threw  his  head  farther  and  farther  back, 
and  suddenly  his  boot-heel  touched  the  beam, 
sending  the  dust  from  the  ceiling  in  showers 
over  them  all.  The  people  laughed  and 
shouted  about  him ;  the  girls  stood  well-nigh 
breathless.  The  tune  hurrahed  with  the  rest, 
stimulating  him  anew  with  more  and  more 
strongly-marked  accents,  nor  did  he  resist  the 
exciting  influences.  He  bent  forward,  hopped 
along  in  time  to  the  music,  made  ready  appar- 
ently for  a  fling,  but  only  as  a  hoax,  and  then 
moved  on,  his  body  aslant  as  before;  and  when 


ARNE.  23 

he  seemed  the  least  prepared  for  it,  his  boot- 
heel  thundered  against  the  beam  again  and 
again,  whereupon  lie  turned  summersaults  for- 
wards and  backwards  in  the  air,  landing  each 
time  erect  on  his  feet.  He  broke  off  abruptly, 
and  the  tune,  running  through  some  wild  varia- 
tions, worked  its  way  down  to  a  deep  tone  in 
the  bass,  where  it  quivered  and  vibrated,  and 
died  away  with  a  long-drawn  stroke  of  the  bow. 
The  crowd  dispersed,  and  loud,  eager  conversa- 
tion, mingled  with  shouts  and  exclamations, 
broke  the  silenre.  Nils  stood  leaning  against 
the  wall,  and  the  American  gentlemen  went 
over  to  him,  with  their  interpreter,  and  each 
gave  him  five  dollars. 

The  Americans  talked  a  little  with  the  inter- 
preter, whereupon  the  latter  asked  Nils  if  he 
would  go  with  them  as  their  servant ;  he  should 
have  whatever  wages  he  wanted.  "  Whither  ?  " 
asked  Nils.  The  people  crowded  about  them 
as  closely  as  possible.  "  Out  into  the  world,'" 
was  the  reply.  "  When  ?  "  asked  Nils,  and 
looking  around  with  a  shining  face,  he  caught 
Birgit  Boen's  eyes,  and  did  not  let  them  go 
again.  "  In  a  week,  when  we  come  back  here," 
was  the  answer.  "  It  is  possible  I  will  be 
ready,"  replied  Nils,  weighing  his  two  five-dollar 
pieces.    He  had  rested  one  arm  on  the  shoulder 


24  ARNE. 

of  a  man  standing  near  him,  and  it  trembled 
so  that  the  man  wanted  to  help  him  to  the 
bench. 

"  It  is  nothing,"  replied  Nils,  made  some 
wavering  steps  across  the  floor,  then  some  firm 
ones,  and,  turning,  asked  for  a  spring-dance.1 

All  the  girls  had  come  to  the  front.  Cast- 
ing a  long,  lingering  look  about  him,  he  went 
straightway  to  one  of  them  in  a  dark  skirt ;  it 
was  Birgit  Boen.  He  held  out  his  hand,  and 
she  gave  him  both  of  hers  ;  then  he  laughed, 
drew  back,  caught  hold  of  the  girl  beside  her, 
and  danced  away  with  perfect  abandon.  The 
blood  coursed  up  in  Birgit's  neck  and  face.  A 
tall  man,  with  a  mild  countenance,  was  standing 
directly  behind  her ;  he  took  her  by  the  hand 
and  danced  off  after  Nils.  The  latter  saw  this, 
and  —  it  might  have  been  only  through  heedless- 
ness —  he  danced  so  hard  against  them  that  the 
man  and  Birgit  were  sent  reeling  over  and  fell 
heavily  on  the  floor.  Shouting  and  laughter 
arose  about  them.  Birgit  got  up  at  last,  went 
aside,  and  wept  bitterly. 

The  man  with  the  mild  face  rose  more  slowly 
and  went  straight  over  to  Nils,  who  was  still 
dancing.  "  You  had  better  stop  a  little,"  said 
the  man.     Nils  did  not  hear,  and  then  the  man 

1  A  popular  dance,  in  three-fourths  time. 


ARNE.  25 

took  him  by  the  arm.  Nils  tore  himself  away 
and  looked  at  him.  "  I  do  not  know  you,"  said 
he,  with  a  smile.  "  No  ;  but  you  shall  learn  to 
know  me,"  said  the  man  with  the  mild  face,  and 
with  this  he  struck  Nils  a  blow  over  one  eye. 
Nils,  who  was  wholly  unprepared  for  this,  was 
plunged  heavily  across  the  sharp-edged  hearth- 
stone, and  when  he  promptly  tried  to  rise,  he 
found  that  he  could  not ;  his  back  was  broken. 
At  Kampen  a  change  had  taken  place.  The 
grandmother  had  been  growing  very  feeble  of 
late,  and  when  she  realized  this  she  strove 
harder  than  ever  to  save  money  enough  to  pay 
off  the  last  installment  on  the  gard.  "  Then 
you  and  the  boy  will  have  all  you  need,"  she 
said  to  her  daughter.  "  And  if  you  let  any  one 
come  in  and  waste  it  for  you,  I  will  turn  in  my 
grave."  During  the  autumn,  too,  she  had  the 
pleasure  of  being  able  to  stroll  up  to  the  former 
head -gard  with  the  last  remaining  portion  of 
the  debt,  and  happy  was  she  when  she  had 
taken  her  seat  again,  and  could  say,  "  Now  that 
is  done !  "  But  at  that  very  time  she  was  at- 
tacked by  her  last  illness  ;  she  betook  herself 
forthwith  to  her  bed,  and  never  rose  again. 
Her  daughter  buried  her  in  a  vacant  spot  in  the 
churchyard,  and  placed  over  her  a  handsome 
cross,  whereon  was  inscribed  her  name  and  age, 


26  AENE. 

with  a  verse  from  one  of  Kingo's ]  hymns.  A 
fortnight  after  the  grandmother  was  laid  in  her 
grave,  her  Sunday  gown  was  made  over  into 
clothes  for  the  boy,  and  when  he  put  them  on, 
he  became  as  solemn  as  though  he  were  his 
gTandmother  come  back  again.  Of  his  own 
accord,  he  went  to  the  book  with  big  print  and 
large  clasps  she  had  read  and  sung  from  every 
Sunday,  opened  it,  and  there  inside  found  her 
spectacles.  These  the  boy  had  never  been  per- 
mitted to  touch  during  his  grandmother's  life- 
time ;  now  he  timidly  took  them  up,  put  them 
on  his  nose,  and  looked  through  them  into  the 
book.  All  was  misty.  "  How  strange,"  thought 
the  boy,  "  it  was  through  them  grandmother 
could  read  the  word  of  God."  He  held  them 
high  up  toward  the  light  to  see  what  the  mat- 
ter was,  and  —  the  spectacles  lay  on  the  floor. 

He  was  much  alarmed,  and  when  the  door 
at  that  moment  opened,  it  seemed  to  him  as 
though  his  grandmother  must  be  coming  in , 
but  it  was  his  mother,  and  behind  her,  six  men, 
who,  with  much  tramping  and  noise,  were 
bearing  in  a  litter,  which  they  placed  in  the 
middle  of  the  floor.  For  a  long  time  the  door 
was  left  open,  so  that  it  grew  cold  in  the  room. 

On   the  litter  lay  a  man  with  dark  hair  and 

1  A  Dane,  the  most  noted  psalmist  of  Scandinavia. 


ARNE.  27 

pale  face ;  the  mother  moved  about  weeping. 
"  Lay  him  carefully  on  the  bed,"  she  begged, 
herself  lending  a  helping  hand.  But  while  the 
men  were  moving  with  him,  something  made 
a  noise  under  their  feet.  "  Oh,  it  is  only 
grandmother's  spectacles,"  thought  the  boy,  but 
he  did  not  say  so. 


CHAPTER  III. 

It  was  in  the  autumn,  as  before  stated.  A 
week  after  Nils  the  tailor  was  borne  into  Mar- 
git  Kampen's  home,  there  came  word  to  him 
from  the  Americans  that  he  must  hold  himself 
in  readiness  to  start.  He  lay  just  then  writh- 
ing under  a  terrible  attack  of  pain,  and,  gnash- 
ing his  teeth,  he  shrieked,  "  Let  them  go  to 
hell!  "  Margit  stood  motionless,  as  though 
he  had  made  no  answer.  He  noticed  this,  and 
presently  he  repeated  slowly  and  feebly,  "  Let 
them  —  go." 

As  the  winter  advanced,  he  improved  so  much 
that  he  was  able  to  sit  up,  although  his  health 
was  shattered  for  life.  The  first  time  he  act- 
ually sat  up,  he  took  out  his  fiddle  and  tuned  it, 
but  became  so  agitated  that  he  had  to  go  to 
bed  again.  He  grew  very  taciturn,  but  was 
not  hard  to  get  along  with ;  and  as  time  wore 
on,  he  taught  the  boy  to  read,  and  began  to  take 
work  in  at  home.  He  never  went  out,  and 
would  not  talk  with  those  who  dropped  in  to 
see  him.     At  first  Margit  used  to  bring  him  the 


ARNE.  29 

parish  news  ;  be  was  always  gloomy  afterwards, 
so  she  ceased  to  do  so. 

When  spring  bad  fairly  set  in,  he  and  Mar- 
git  would  sit  longer  than  usual  talking  together 
after  the  evening  meal.  The  boy  was  then  sent 
off  to  bed.  Some  time  later  in  the  spring  their 
bans  were  published  in  church,  after  which  they 
were  quietly  married. 

He  did  his  share  of  work  in  the  fields  now, 
and  managed  everything  in  a  sensible,  orderly 
way.  Margit  said  to  the  boy,  "  There  is  both 
profit  and  pleasure  in  him.  Now  you  must  be 
obedient  and  good,  that  you  may  do  your  best 
for  him." 

Margit  had  remained  tolerably  stout  through 
all  her  sorrow  ;  she  had  a  ruddy  face  and  very 
large  eyes,  which  looked  all  the  larger  because 
there  was  a  ring  round  them.  She  had  full 
lips,  a  round  face,  and  looked  healthy  and 
strong,  although  she  was  not  very  strong.  At 
this  period  of  her  life,  she  was  looking  better 
than  ever  ;  and  she  always  sang  when  she  was 
at  work,  as  had  ever  been  her  wont. 

One  Sunday  afternoon,  father  and  son  went 
out  to  see  how  the  crops  were  thriving  that 
year.  Arne  ran  about  his  father,  shooting  with 
a  bow  and  arrow.  Nils  had  himself  made 
them  for  the  boy.     Thus  they  passed  on  directly 


30  ARNE. 

up  toward  the  road  leading  past  the  church 
and  parsonage,  down  to  what  was  called  the 
broad  valley.  Nils  seated  himself  on  a  stone 
by  the  roadside  and  fell  to  dreaming  ;  the  boy- 
shot  into  the  road  and  sprang  after  his  arrow, — 
it  was  in  the  direction  of  the  church.  "  Not 
too  far  away!"  said  the  father.  While  the 
boy  was  playing  there,  he  paused,  as  though 
listening.  "  Father,  I  hear  music  !  "  The 
father  listened  too  ;  they  heard  the  sounds  of 
fiddling,  almost  drowned  at  times  by  loud 
shouts  and  wild  uproar ;  but  above  all  rose  the 
steady  rumbling  of  cart-wheels  and  the  clat- 
ter of  horses'  feet ;  it  was  a  bridal  procession, 
wending  its  way  home  from  church.  "  Come 
here,  boyT,"  shouted  the  father,  and  Arne  knew 
by  the  tones  of  the  voice  that  he  must  make 
haste.  The  father  had  hurriedly  risen  and 
hidden  behind  a  large  tree.  The  boy  has- 
tened after  him.  "  Not  here,  over  there  !  "  cried 
the  father,  and  the  boy  stepped  behind  an 
alder-copse.  Already  the  carts  were  winding 
round  the  birch-grove  ;  they  came  at  a  wild 
speed,  the  horses  were  white  witli  foam,  drunken 
people  were  crying  and  shouting  ;  father  and 
Bon  counted  cart  after  cart, —  there  wen'  in  all 
fourteen.  In  the  first  sat  two  fiddlers,  and  the 
wedding  march    sounded   merrily   through   the 


ARNE.  31 

clear  air,  —  a  boy  stood  behind  and  drove. 
Afterwards  came  a  crowned  bride,  who  sat  on 
a  high  seat  and  glittered  in  the  sunshine  ;  she 
smiled,  and  her  mouth  drew  to  one  side  ;  beside 
her  sat  a  man  clad  in  blue  and  with  a  mild  face. 
The  bridal  train  followed,  the  men  sat  on  the 
women's  laps  ;  small  boys  were  sitting  behind, 
drunken  men  were  driving,  —  there  were  six 
people  to  one  horse  ;  the  man  who  presided  at 
the  feast  came  in  the  last  cart,  holding  a  keg  of 
brandy  on  his  lap.  They  passed  by  screaming 
and  singing,  and  drove  recklessly  down  the 
hill ;  the  fiddling,  the  voices,  the  rattling  of 
wheels,  lingered  behind  them  in  the  dust ;  the 
breeze  bore  up  single  shrieks,  soon  only  a  dull 
rumbling,  and  then  nothing.  Nils  stood  mo- 
tionless ;  there  was  a  rustling  behind  him,  he 
turned  ;  it  was  the  boy  who  was  creeping  for- 
ward. 

"  Who  was  it,  father?  "  But  the  boy  start- 
ed, for  his  father's  face  was  dreadful.  Arne 
stood  motionless  waiting  for  an  answer  ;  then 
he  remained  where  he  was  because  he  got  none. 
After  some  time  he  became  impatient  and  ven- 
tured again.  "  Shall  we  go  ?  "  Nils  was  still 
gazing  after  the  bridal  train,  but  he  now  con- 
trolled himself  and  started  on.  Arne  followed 
after.     He  put  an  arrow  into  the  bow.  shot  it, 


32  ARNE. 

and  ran.  "  Do  not  trample  down  the  grass,' 
said  Nils  gruffly.  The  boy  let  the  arrow  lie 
and  came  back.  After  a  while  he  had  forgot- 
ten ibis,  and  once  when  his  father  paused,  he 
lay  down  and  turned  summersaults.  "  Do  not 
trample  down  the  grass,  I  say."  Here  Arne 
was  seized  by  one  arm,  and  lifted  by  it  with 
such  violence  that  it  was  almost  put  out  of 
joint.     Afterward,  he  walked  quietly  behind. 

At  the  door  Margit  awaited  them  ;  she  had 
just  come  in  from  the  stable,  where  she  had  evi- 
dently had  pretty  hard  work,  for  her  hair  was 
tumbled,  her  linen  soiled,  her  dress  likewise, 
but  she  stood  in  the  door  smiling.  "  A  couple 
of  the  cows  got  loose  and  have  been  into  mis- 
chief ;  now  they  are  tied  again." 

"  You  might  make  yourself  a  little  tidy  on 
Sunday,"  said  Nils,  as  he  went  past  into  the 
house. 

"  Yes,  there  is  some  sense  in  tidying  up  now 
that  the  work  is  done,"  said  Margit,  and  fol- 
lowed him.  She  began  to  fix  herself  at  once, 
and  sang  while  she  was  doing  so.  Now  Margit 
sang  well,  but  sometimes  there  was  a  little 
huskiness  in  her  voice. 

"  Stop  that  screaming,"  said  Nils  ;  he  had 
thrown  himself  on  his  back  across  the  bed. 
Margit  stopped. 


ARXE.  33 

Then  the  boy  came  storming  in.  "  There 
has  come  into  the  yard  a  great  black  dog,  a 
dreadful  looking  "  — 

"  Hold  your  tongue,  boy,"  said  Nils  from  the 
bed,  and  thrust  out  one  foot  to  stamp  on  the 
floor  with  it.  "  A  devilish  noise  that  boy  is  al- 
ways making,"  he  muttered  afterward,  and  drew 
his  foot  up  again. 

The  mother  held  up  a  warning  finger  to  the 
boy.  "  You  surely  must  see  that  father  is  not 
in  a  good  humor,"  she  meant.  "  Will  you  not 
have  some  strong  coffee  with  syrup  in  it  ?  "  said 
she  ;  she  wanted  to  put  him  in  a  good  humor 
again.  This  was  a  drink  the  grandmother  had 
liked,  and  the  rest  of  them  too.  Nils  did  not 
like  it  at  all,  but  had  drunk  it  because  the 
others  did  so.  "  Will  you  not  have  some  strong 
coffee  with  syrup  in  it  ?  "  repeated  Margit ;  for 
he  had  made  no  reply  the  first  time.  Nils 
raised  himself  up  on  both  elbows  and  shrieked, 
"  Do  you  think  I  will  pour  down  such  slops  ?  " 

Margit  was  struck  with  surprise,  and,  taking 
the  boy  with  her,  went  out. 

They  had  a  number  of  things  to  attend  to 
outside,  and  did  not  come  in  before  supper- 
time.  Then  Nils  was  gone.  Arne  was  sent 
out  into  the  field  to  call  him,  but  found  him  no- 
where.      They   waited    until    the    supper    was 

3 


34  ARNE. 

nearly  cold,  then  ate,  and  still  Nils  had  not 
come.  Margit  became  uneasy,  sent  the  boy  to 
bed,  and  sat  down  to  wait.  A  little  after  mid- 
night Nils  appeared. 

"  Where  have  you  been,  dear?  "  asked  she. 

"  That  is  none  of  your  business,"  he  an- 
swered, and  slowly  sat  down  on  the  bench. 

He  was  drunk. 

After  this,  Nils  often  went  out  in  the  parish, 
and  always  came  home  drunk.  "  I  cannot  stand 
it  at  home  here  with  you,"  said  he  once  when 
he  came  in.  She  tried  gently  to  defend  herself, 
and  then  he  stamped  on  the  floor  and  bade  her 
be  silent :  if  he  was  drunk,  it  was  her  fault ;  if 
he  was  wicked,  it  was  her  fault  too ;  if  he  was 
a  cripple  and  an  unfortunate  being  for  his  whole 
life,  why,  she  was  to  blame  too,  and  that  in- 
fernal boy  of  hers. 

"  Why  were  you  always  dangling  after  me  ?  " 
said  he,  and  wept.  "  What  harm  had  I  done 
you  that  you  could  not  leave  me  in  peace  ?  " 

"  Lord  have  mercy  on  me  !  "  said  Margit. 
"  Was  it  I  who  went  after  you  ?  " 

"  Yes,  it  was  !  "  he  shrieked  as  he  arose,  and 
amid  tears  he  continued  :  "  You  have  succeeded 
in  getting  what  you  wanted.  I  drag  myself 
about  from  tree  to  tree.  I  go  every  day  and 
look  at  my  own  grave.     But  I  could  have  lived 


ARNE.  35 

in  splendor  with  the  finest  gard  girl  in  the 
parish.  I  might  have  traveled  as  far  as  the  sun 
goes,  had  not  you  and  your  damned  boy  put 
yourselves  in  my  way." 

She  tried  again  to  defend  herself.  "  It  was, 
at  all  events,  not  the  boy's  fault." 

"  If  you  do  not  hold  your  tongue,  I  will 
strike  you !  "  —  and  he  struck  her. 

After  he  had  slept  himself  sober  the  next 
day,  he  was  ashamed,  and  was  especially  kind 
to  the  boy.  But  soon  he  was  drunk  again,  and 
then  he  struck  the  mother.  At  last  he  got  to 
striking  her  almost  every  time  he  was  drunk. 
The  boy  cried  and  lamented  ;  then  he  struck 
him  too.  Sometimes  his  repentance  was  so 
deep  that  he  felt  compelled  to  leave  the  house. 
About  this  time  his  fondness  for  dancing  re- 
vived. He  began  to  go  about  fiddling  as  in  for- 
mer days,  and  took  the  boy  with  him  to  carry 
the  fiddle-case.  Thus  Arne  saw  a  great  deal. 
The  mother  wept  because  he  had  to  go  along, 
but  dared  not  say  so  to  the  father.  "  Hold 
faithfully  to  God,  and  learn  nothing  evil,"  she 
begged,  and  tenderly  caressed  her  boy.  But 
at  the  dances  there  was  a  great  deal  of  diver- 
sion ;  at  home  with  the  mother  there  was  none 
at  all.  Arne  turned  more  and  more  from  her 
and  to  the  father;  she  saw  this  and  was  silent. 


36  ARNE. 

At  the  dances  Arne  learned  many  songs,  and 
be  sang  them  at  home  to  his  father  ;  this 
amused  the  latter,  and  now  and  then  the  boy 
could  even  get  him  to  laugh.  This  was  so  flat- 
tering to  Arne  that  he  exerted  himself  to  learn 
as  many  songs  as  possible;  soon  he  noticed 
what  kind  the  father  liked  best,  and  what  it 
was  that  made  him  laugh.  When  there  was 
not  enough  of  this  element  in  the  songs  he  was 
singing,  the  boy  added  to  it  himself,  and  this 
early  gave  him  practice  in  adapting  words  to 
music.  It  was  chiefly  lampoons  and  odious 
things  about  people  who  had  risen  to  power  and 
prosperity,  that  the  father  liked  and  the  boy 
sang. 

The  mother  finally  concluded  to  take  him 
with  her  to  the  stable  of  evenings  ;  numerous 
were  the  pretexts  he  found  to  escape  going,  but 
when,  nevertheless,  she  managed  to  take  him 
with  her,  she  talked  kindly  to  him  about  God 
and  good  things,  usually  ending  by  taking  him 
in  her  arms,  and,  amid  blinding  tears,  begging 
him,  entreating  him  not  to  become  a  bad  man. 

The  mother  taught  the  boy  to  read,  and  he 
was  surprisingly  quick  at  learning.  The  father 
was  proud  of  this,  and,  especially  when  he  was 
drunk,  told  Arne  he  had  his  head. 

Soon    the    father   fell   into  the   habit,   when 


ARNE.  o7 

drink  got  the  better  of  him,  of  calling  on  Arne 
at  dancing-parties  to  sing  for  the  people.  The 
boy  always  obeyed,  singing  song  after  song 
amid  laughter  and  uproar  ;  the  applause  pleased 
the  son  almost  more  than  it  did  the  father,  and 
finall}'  there  was  no  end  to  the  songs  Arne 
could  sing.  Anxious  mothers  who  heard  this, 
went  themselves  to  his  mother  and  told  her  of 
it ;  their  reason  for  so  doing  being  that  the 
character  of  these  songs  was  not  what  it  should 
be.  The  mother  put  her  arms  about  her  boy 
and  forbade  him,  in  the  name  of  God  and  all 
that  was  sacred,  to  sing  such  songs,  and  now  it 
seemed  to  Arne  that  everything  he  took  delight 
in  his  mother  opposed.  For  the  first  time  he 
told  his  father  what  his  mother  had  said.  She 
had  to  suffer  for  this  the  next  time  the  father 
was  drunk  ;  he  held  his  peace  until  then.  But 
no  sooner  had  it  become  clear  to  the  boy  what 
he  had  done  than  in  his  soul  he  implored  par- 
don of  God  and  her ;  he  could  not  bring  him- 
self to  do  so  in  spoken  words.  His  mother  was 
just  as  kind  as  ever  to  him,  and  this  cut  him  to 
the  quick. 

Once,  however,  he  forgot  this.  He  had  a 
faculty  for  mimicking  people.  Above  all,  he 
could  talk  and  sing  as  others  did.  The  mother 
came  in  one  evening  when  Arne  was  entertain- 


38  ARNE. 

ing  his  father  with  this,  and  it  occurred  to  the 
father,  after  she  had  gone  out,  that  the  boy- 
should  imitate  his  mother's  singing.  Arne  re- 
fused at  first,  but  his  father,  who  lay  over  on  the 
bed  and  laughed  until  it  shook,  insisted  finally 
that  he  should  sing  like  his  mother.  She  is 
gone,  thought  the  boy,  and  cannot  hear  it,  and 
he  mimicked  her  singing  as  it  sounded  some- 
times when  she  was  hoarse  and  choked  with 
tears.  The  father  laughed  until  it  seemed  al- 
most hideous  to  the  boy,  and  he  stopped  of  him- 
self. Just  then  the  mother  came  in  from  the 
kitchen  ;  she  looked  long  and  hard  at  the  boy, 
as  she  crossed  the  floor  to  a  shelf  after  a  milk- 
pan  and  turned  to  carry  it  out. 

A  burning  heat  ran  through  his  whole  body  ; 
she  had  heard  it  all.  He  sprang  down  from 
the  table  where  he  had  been  sitting,  went  out, 
cast  himself  on  the  ground,  and  it  seemed  as 
though  he  must  bury  himself  out  of  sight.  He 
could  not  rest,  and  got  up  feeling  that  he  must 
go  farther  on.  He  went  past  the  barn,  and  be- 
hind it  sat  the  mother,  sewing  on  a  fine,  new 
shirt,  just  for  him.  She  had  always  been  in 
the  habit  of  singing  a  hymn  over  her  work 
when  she  sat  sewing,  but  now  she  was  not  sing- 
ing. She  was  not  weeping,  either  ;  she  only 
sat  and  sewed.     Arne  could  bear  it  no  longer  ; 


ARNE.  39 

he  flung  himself  down  in  the  grass  directly  in 
front  of  her,  looked  up  at  her,  and  wept  and 
sobbed  bitterly.  The  mother  dropped  her  work 
and  took  his  head  between  her  hands. 

"  Poor  Arne  !  "  said  she,  and  laid  her  own 
beside  his.  He  did  not  try  to  say  a  word,  but 
wept  as  he  had  never  clone  before.  "  I  knew 
you  were  good  at  heart,"  said  the  mother,  and 
stroked  down  his  hair. 

"  Mother,  you  must  not  say  no  to  what  I  am 
going  to  ask  for,"  was  the  first  thing  he  could 
say. 

"  That  you  know  I  cannot  do,"  answered 
she. 

He  tried  to  stop  crying,  and  then  stammered 
out,  with  his  head  still  in  her  lap :  "  Mother, 
sing  something  for  me." 

"  My  dear,  I  cannot,"  said  she,  softly. 

"  Mother,  sing  something  for  me,"  begged 
the  boy,  "  or  I  believe  I  will  never  be  able  to 
look  at  you  again." 

She  stroked  his  hair,  but  was  silent. 

"Mother,  sing,  sing,  I  say !  Sing,"  he  begged. 
"  or  I  will  go  so  far  away  that  I  will  never 
come  home  any  more." 

And  while  he,  now  fourteen,  in  his  fifteenth 
year  as  he  was,  lay  there  with  his  head  in  his 
mother's  lap,  she  began  to  sing  over  him  :  — 


40  ARNE. 

"  Father,  stretch  forth  Thy  mighty  hand, 
Thy  Holy  Spirit  send  yonder: 
Bless  Thou  the  child  on  the  lonely  strand, 

Nor  in  its  sports  let  it  wander. 
Slipp'iy  the  way,  the  water  deep, — 
Lord,  in  Thy  arm  but  the  darling  keep, 
Then  through  Thy  mercy  't  will  never 
Drown,  but  with  Thee  live  forever. 

"  Missing  her  child,  in  disquiet  sore, 
Much  for  its  safety  fearing, 
Often  the  mother  calls  from  her  door, 

Never  an  answer  hearing,  — 
Then  comes  the  thought :  where'er  it  be, 
Blessed  Lord,  it  is  near  to  Thee ; 
Jesus  will  guide  his  brother 
Home  to  the  anxious  mother."  l 

She  sang  several  verses.  Arne  lay  still :  there 
descended  upon  him  a  blessed  peace,  and  under 
its  influence  he  felt  a  refreshing  weariness. 
The  last  thing  he  distinctly  heard  was  about 
Jesus :  it  bore  him  into  the  midst  of  a  great 
light,  and  there  it  seemed  as  though  twelve  or 
thirteen  were  singing  ;  but  the  mother's  voice 
rose  above  them  all.  A  lovelier  voice  he  had 
never  heard  ;  he  prayed  that  he  might  sing- 
thus.  It  seemed  to  him  that  if  he  were  to  sing 
right  softly  he  might  do  so;  and  now  he  sang 
softly,  tried  again  softly,  and  still  more  softly, 
and  then,  rejoiced  at  the  bliss  that  seemed  ut- 
most dawning  for  him,  he  joined   in  with  full 

1  Auber  Forestier's  translation. 


ARNE.  41 

voice,  and  the  spell  was  broken.  He  awakened, 
looked  about  him,  listened,  but  heard  nothing, 
save  the  everlasting,  mighty  roar  of  the  force, 
and  the  little  creek  that  flowed  past  the  barn, 
with  its  low  and  incessant  murmuring.  The 
mother  was  gone,  —  she  had  laid  under  his  head 
the  half-finished  shirt  and  her  jacket. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

When  the  time  came  to  take  the  herds  up 
into  the  woods,  Arne  wanted  to  tend  them. 
His  father  objected  ;  the  boy  had  never  tended 
cattle,  and  he  was  now  in  his  fifteenth  year. 
But  he  was  so  urgent  that  it  was  finally  ar- 
ranged as  he  wished;  and  the  entire  spring, 
summer,  and  autumn  he  was  in  the  woods  by 
himself  the  livelong  day,  only  going  home  to 
sleep. 

He  took  his  books  up  there  with  him.  He 
read  and  carved  letters  in  the  bark  of  the  trees  ; 
he  went  about  thinking,  longing,  and  singing. 
When  he  came  home  in  the  evening  his  father 
was  often  drunk,  and  beat  the  mother,  cursed 
her  and  the  parish,  and  talked  about  how  he 
might  once  have  journeyed  far  away.  Then 
the  longing  for  travel  entered  the  boy's  mind 
too.  There  was  no  comfort  at  home,  and  the 
books  opened  other  worlds  to  him;  sometimes 
it  seemed  as  though  the  air,  too,  wafted  him  far 
away  over  the  lofty  mountains. 

So  it  happened   about   midsummer  that   he 


ARNE.  43 

met  Kristian,  the  captain's  eldest  son,  who  came 
with  the  servant  boy  to  the  woods  after  the 
horses,  in  order  to  get  a  ride  home.  He  was  a 
few  years  older  than  Arne,  light-hearted  and 
gay,  unstable  in  all  his  thoughts,  but  neverthe- 
less firm  in  his  resolves.  He  spoke  rapidly  and 
in  broken  sentences,  and  usually  about  two 
things  at  once ;  rode  horseback  without  a  sad- 
dle, shot  birds  on  the  wing,  went  fly-fishing, 
and  seemed  to  Arne  the  goal  of  his  aspirations. 
He  also  had  his  head  full  of  travel,  and  told 
Arne  about  foreign  lands  until  everything  about 
them  was  radiant.  He  discovered  Arne's  fond- 
ness for  reading,  and  now  carried  up  to  him 
those  books  he  had  read  himself.  After  Arne 
had  finished  reading  these,  Kristian  brought 
him  new  ones  ;  he  sat  there  himself  on  Sundays, 
and  taught  Arne  how  to  find  his  way  in  the 
geography  and  the  map  ;  and  all  summer  and 
autumn  Arne  read  until  he  grew  pale  and 
thin. 

In  the  winter  he  was  allowed  to  read  at 
home  ;  partly  because  he  was  to  be  confirmed 
the  next  year,  partly  because  he  always  knew 
how  to  manage  his  father.  He  began  to  go  to 
school ;  but  there  he  took  most  comfort  when 
he  closed  his  eyes  and  fancied  himself  over  his 
books  at  home  ;  besides,  there  were  no  longer 


44  ARNE. 

any  companions  for  him  among  the  peasant 
boys. 

His  father's  ill-treatment  of  the  mother  in- 
creased with  years,  as  did  also  his  fondness  for 
drink  and  his  bodity  suffering.  And  when 
Arne,  notwithstanding  this,  had  to  sit  and 
amuse  him,  in  order  to  furnish  the  mother 
with  an  hour's  peace,  and  then  often  talk  of 
things  he  now,  in  his  heart,  despised,  he  felt 
growing  within  him  a  hatred  for  his  father. 
This  he  hid  far  down  in  his  heart,  as  he  did 
his  love  for  his  mother.  When  he  was  with 
Kristian,  their  talk  ran  on  great  journeys  and 
books  ;  even  to  him  he  said  nothing  about  how 
things  were  at  home.  But  many  times  after 
these  wide-ranging  talks,  when  he  was  walking 
home  alone,  wondering  what  might  now  meet 
him  there,  he  wept  and  prayed  to  God,  in  the 
starry  heavens,  to  grant  that  he  might  soon  be 
allowed  to  go  away. 

In  the  summer  he  and  Kristian  were  con- 
firmed. Directly  afterward,  the  latter  carried 
out  his  plan.  His  father  had  to  let  him  go 
from  home  and  become  a  sailor.  He  presented 
Arne  with  his  books,  promised  to  write  often 
to  him,  —  and  went  away. 

Now  Arne  was  alone. 

About  this  time  he  was  again  filled  with  a 


ARNE.  45 

desire  to  write  songs.  He  no  longer  patched 
up  old  ones ;  he  made  new  ones,  and  wove  into 
them  all  that  grieved  him  most. 

But  his  heart  grew  too  heavy,  and  his  sorrow 
broke  forth  in  his  songs.  He  now  lay  through 
long,  sleepless  nights,  brooding,  until  he  felt 
sure  that  he  could  bear  this  no  longer,  but  must 
journey  far  away,  seek  Kristian,  and  not  say  a 
word  about  it  to  any  one.  He  thought  of  his 
mother,  and  what  would  become  of  her,  —  and 
he  could  scarcely  look  her  in  the  face. 

He  sat  up  late  one  evening  reading.  When 
his  heart  became  too  gloomy,  he  took  refuge  in 
his  books,  and  did  not  perceive  that  they  in- 
creased the  venom.  His  father  was  at  a  wed- 
ding, but  was  expected  home  that  evening ;  his 
mother  was  tired,  and  dreaded  her  husband's 
return ;  had  therefore  gone  to  bed.  Arne  started 
up  at  the  sound  of  a  heavy  fall  in  the  pas- 
sage and  the  rattling  of  something  hard,  which 
struck  against  the  door.  It  was  his  father  who 
had  come  home. 

Arne  opened  the  door  and  looked  at  him. 

"  Is  that  you,  my  clever  boy?  Come  and  help 
your  father  up  !  " 

He  was  raised  up  and  helped  in  toward  the 
bench.  Arne  took  up  the  fiddle-case,  carried 
it  in,  and  closed  the  door. 


46  AENE. 

"Yes,  look  at  me,  you  clever  boy.  I  am  not 
handsome  now ;  this  is  no  longer  tailor  Nils. 
This  I  say  —  to  you,  that  you  —  never  shall 
drink  brandy  ;  it  is  —  the  world  and  the  flesh 
and  the  devil — He  resisteth  the  proud  but 
giveth  grace  unto  the  humble.  —  Ah,  woe,  woe 
is  me  !  —  How  far  it  has  gone  with  me  !  " 

He  sat  still  a  while,  then  he  sang,  weeping,  — 

"  Merciful  Lord,  I  come  to  Thee; 
Help,  if  there  can  be  help  for  me; 
Though  by  the  mire  of  sin  defiled, 
I  'm  still  thine  own  dear  ransomed  child."  l 

"  Lord,  I  am  not  worthy  that  Thou  should  est 
come  uuder  my  roof ;  but  speak  the  word 
only  " —  He  flung  himself  down,  hid  his  face 
in  his  hands,  and  sobbed  convulsively.  Long 
he  lay  thus,  and  then  he  repeated  word  for 
word  from  the  Bible,  as  he  had  learned  it  prob- 
ably more  than  twenty  years  before :  "  Then 
she  came  and  worshiped  Him,  saying,  Lord, 
help  me !  But  he  answered  and  said,  It  is  not 
meet  to  take  the  children's  bread,  and  to  cast 
it  to  dogs.  And  she  said,  Truth,  Lord,  yet  the 
dogs  eat  of  the  crumbs  which  fall  from  their 
master's  table!" 

He  was  silent  now,  and  dissolved  in  a  flood 
of  tears. 

i  Translated  by  Augusta  Plesner  and  S.  Rugeley-Powere. 


ARNE.  47 

The  mother  had  awakened  long  since,  but 
had  not  dared  raise  her  eyes,  now  that  her 
husband  was  weeping  like  one  who  is  saved ; 
she  leaned  on  her  elbows  and  looked  up. 

But  scarcely  had  Nils  descried  her,  than  he 
shrieked  out :  "  Are  you  staring  at  me ;  you, 
too  ?  —  you  want  to  see,  I  suppose,  what  you 
have  brought  me  to.  Aye,  this  is  the  way  I 
look,  exactly  so !  "  He  rose  up,  and  she  hid 
herself  under  the  robe.  "  No,  do  not  hide,  I 
will  find  you  easily  enough,"  said  he,  extend- 
ing his  right  hand,  and  groping  his  way  along 
with  outstretched  forefinger.  "  Tickle,  tick- 
le ! "  said  he,  as  he  drew  off  the  covers  and 
placed  his  finger  on  her  throat. 

"  Father  !  "  said  Arne. 

"  Oh  dear !  how  shriveled  up  and  thin  you 
have  grown.  There  is  not  much  flesh  here. 
Tickle,  tickle." 

The  mother  convulsively  seized  his  hand 
with  both  of  hers,  but  could  not  free  herself, 
and  so  rolled  herself  into  a  ball. 

"  Father  !  "  said  Arne. 

"  So  life  has  come  into  you  now.  How  she 
writhes,  the  fright !     Tickle,  tickle  !  " 

"  Father !  "  said  Arne.  The  room  seemed  to 
swim  about  him. 

"  Tickle,  I  say  !  " 


48  ARNE. 

She  let  go  his  bands  and  gave  up. 

"  Father  !  "  shouted  Arne.  He  sprang  to  the 
corner,  where  stood  an  axe. 

"  It  is  only  from  obstinacy  that  you  do  not 
scream.  You  had  better  not  do  so  either;  I 
have  taken  such  a  frightful  fancy.  Tickle, 
tickle !  " 

"  Father !  "  shrieked  Arne,  seizing  the  axe, 
but  remained  standing  as  though  nailed  to  the 
spot,  for  at  that  moment  the  father  drew  him- 
self up,  gave  a  piercing  cry,  clutched  at  his 
breast,  and  fell  over.  "  Jesus  Christ !  "  said 
he,  and  lay  quite  still. 

Arne  knew  not  where  he  stood  or  what  he 
stood  over  ;  he  waited,  as  it  were,  for  the  room 
to  burst  asunder,  and  for  a  strong  light  to  break 
in  somewhere.  The  mother  began  to  draw  her 
breath  heavily,  as  though  she  were  rolling  off 
some  great  weight.  She  finally  half  rose,  and 
saw  the  father  lying  stretched  out  on  the  floor, 
the  son  standing  boside  him  with  an  axe. 

"  Merciful  Lord,  what  have  you  done  ? " 
she  shrieked,  and  started  up  out  of  bed,  threw 
her  skirt  about  her,  and  came  nearer  ;  then 
Arne  felt  as  if  his  tongue  were  unloosed. 

"He  fell  down  himself,"  said  he. 

"Arne,  Arne,  I  do  not  believe  you,"  cried 
the  mother,  in  a  loud,  rebuking  tone.     "  Now 


ARNE.  49 

Jesus  be  with  you  ! "  and  she  flung  herself  over 
the  corpse,  with  piteous  lamentation. 

Now  the  boy  came  out  of  his  stupor,  and 
dropping  clown  on  his  knees,  exclaimed,  "As 
surely  as  I  look  for  mercy  from  God,  he  fell  as 
he  stood  there." 

"  Then  our  Lord  himself  has  been  here," 
said  she,  quietly ;  and,  sitting  on  the  floor,  she 
fixed  her  eyes  on  the  corpse. 

Nils  lay  precisely  as  he  fell,  stiff,  with  open 
eyes  and  mouth.  His  hands  had  drawn  near 
together,  as  though  he  had  tried  to  clasp  them, 
but  had  been  unable  to  do  so. 

"  Take  hold  of  your  father,  you  are  so  strong, 
and  help  me  lay  him  on  the  bed." 

And  they  took  hold  of  him  and  laid  him  on 
the  bed.  Margit  closed  his  eyes  and  mouth, 
stretched  him  out  and  folded  his  hands. 

Mother  and  son  stood  and  looked  at  him.  All 
they  had  experienced  until  then  neither  seemed 
so  long  nor  contained  so  much  as  this  moment. 
If  the  devil  himself  had  been  there,  the  Lord 
had  been  there  also;  the  encounter  had  been 
short.     All  the  past  was  now  settled. 

It  was  a  little  after  midnight,  and  they  had 

to    be    there    with    the    dead    man    until    day 

dawned.     Arne  crossed  the  floor,  and  made  a 

great  fire  on  the  hearth,  the  mother  sat  down 

4 


50  ARNE. 

by  it.  And  now,  as  she  sat  there,  it  rushed 
through  her  mind  how  many  evil  days  she  had 
had  Avith  Nils  ;  and  then  she  thanked  God,  in 
a  loud,  fervent  prayer,  for  what  He  had  done. 
"But  I  have  truly  had  some  good  days  also," 
said  she,  and  wept  as  though  she  regretted  her 
recent  thankfulness ;  and  it  ended  in  her  taking 
the  greatest  blame  on  herself  who  had  acted 
contrary  to  God's  commandment,  out  of  love 
for  the  departed  one,  had  been  disobedient  to 
her  mother,  and  therefore  had  been  punished 
through  this  sinful  love. 

Arne  sat  down  directly  opposite  her.  The 
mother's  eyes  were  fixed  on  the  bed. 

"  Arne,  you  must  remember  that  it  was  for 
your  sake  I  bore  it  all,"  and  she  wept,  yearn- 
ing for  a  loving  word  in  order  to  gain  a  sup- 
port against  her  own  self-accusations,  and  com- 
fort for  all  coming  time.  The  boy  trembled 
and  could  not  answer.  "  You  must  never  leave 
me,"  sobbed  she. 

Then  it  came  suddenly  to  his  mind  what  she 
had  been,  in  all  this  time  of  sorrow,  and  how 
boundless  would  be  her  desolation  should  he, 
as  a  reward  for  her  great  fidelity,  forsake  her 
now. 

"  Never,  never !  "  he  whispered,  longing  to  go 
to  her,  yet  unable  to  do  so. 


ARNE.  51 

They  kept  their  seats,  but  their  tears  flowed 
freely  together.  She  prayed  aloud,  now  for  the 
dead  man,  now  for  herself  and  her  boy  ;  and 
thus,  amid  prayers  and  tears,  the  time  passed. 
Finally  she  said  :  — 

"  Arne,  you  have  such  a  fine  voice,  you 
must  sit  over  by  the  bed  and  sing  for  your 
father." 

And  it  seemed  as  though  strength  was  forth- 
with given  him  to  do  so.  He  got  up,  and  went 
to  fetch  a  hymn-book,  then  lit  a  torch,  and 
with  the  torch  in  one  hand,  the  hymn-book  in 
the  other,  he  sat  down  at  the  head  of  the  bed 
and,  in  a  clear  voice,  sang  Kingo's  one  hundred 
and  twenty-seventh  hymn  :  — 

"Turn  from  us,  gracious  Lord,  thy  dire  displeasure  1 
Let  not  thy  bloody  rod,  beyond  all  measure, 
Chasten  thy  children,  laden  with  sore  oppressions, 
For  our  transgressions."  1 

1  Auber  Forestier's  translation. 


CHAPTER  \. 

Arne  became  habitually  silent  and  shy.  He 
tended  cattle  and  made  songs.  He  passed  his 
nineteenth  birthday,  and  still  he  kept  on  tend- 
ing cattle.  He  borrowed  books  from  the  priest 
and  read ;  but  he  took  interest  in  nothing  else. 

The  priest  sent  word  to  him  one  day  that  he 
had  better  become  a  school-master,  "  because 
the  parish  ought  to  derive  benefit  from  your  tal- 
ents and  knowledge."  Arne  made  no  reply  to 
this  ;  but  the  next  day,  while  driving  the  sheep 
before  him,  he  made  the  following  song  :  — 

"  Oh,  my  pet  lamb,  lift  your  head, 
Though  the  stoniest  path  you  tread, 
Over  the  mountains  lonely, 
Still  your  bells  follow  only. 

"  Oh,  my  pet  lamb,  walk  with  care, 
Lest  you  spoil  all  your  wool  beware, 
Mother  must  soon  be  sewing 
Skins  for  the  summer  's  going. 

"  Oh,  my  pet  lamb,  try  to  grow 
Fat  and  fine  wheresoe'er  you  go ! 
Know  you  not,  little  sweeting, 
A  spring  lamb  is  dainty  eating!  " 

i  Adapted  to  the  metre  of  the  original  from  the  translation  of 
Augusta  Plcsner  and  S.  Rugeley-Powers. 


ARNE.  53 

One  day  in  his  twentieth  year  Arne  chanced 
to  overhear  a  conversation  between  his  mother 
and  the  wife  of  the  former  gard  owner ;  they 
were  disputing  about  the  horse  they  owned  in 
common. 

"  I  must  wait  to  hear  what  Arne  says,"  re- 
marked the  mother. 

"  That  lazy  fellow  !  "  was  the  reply.  "  He 
would  like,  I  dare  say,  to  have  the  horse  go 
ranging  about  the  woods  as  he  does  himself." 

The  mother  was  now  silent,  although  before 
she  had  been  arguing  her  own  case  well. 

Arne  turned  as  red  as  fire.  It  had  not  oc- 
curred to  him  before  that  his  mother  might 
have  to  listen  to  taunting  words  for  his  sake, 
and  yet  perhaps  she  had  often  been  obliged  to 
do  so.     Why  had  she  not  told  him  of  this  ? 

He  considered  the  matter  well,  and  now  it 
struck  him  that  his  mother  scarcely  ever  talked 
with  him.  But  neither  did  he  talk  with  her. 
With  whom  did  he  talk,  after  all? 

Often  on  Sunday,  when  he  sat  quietly  at 
home,  he  felt  a  desire  to  read  sermons  to  his 
mother,  whose  eyes  were  poor ;  she  had  wept 
too  much  in  her  day.  But  he  did  not  have  the 
courage  to  do  so.  Many  times  he  had  wanted 
to  offer  to  read  aloud  to  her  from  his  own 
books,  when  all  was  still  in  the  house,  and  he 


54  ARNE. 

thought  the  time  must  hang  heavily  on  her 
hands.  But  his  courage  failed  him  for  this 
too. 

"  It  cannot  matter  much.  I  must  give  up 
tending  the  herds,  and  move  down  to  mother." 

He  let  several  days  pass,  and  became  firm 
in  his  resolve.  Then  he  drove  the  cattle  far 
around  in  the  wood,  and  made  the  following 
song  :  — 

"  The  vale  is  full  of  trouble,  but  here  sweet  Peace  may  reign ; 
Within  this  quiet  forest  no  bailiffs  may  distrain; 
None  fight,  as  in  the  vale,  in  the  Blessed  Church's  name, 
Yet  if  a  church  were  here,  it  would  no  doubt  be  just  the  same. 

"  How  peaceful  is  the  forest :  —  true,  the  hawk  is  far  from  kind, 
I  fear  he  now  is  striving  the  plumpest  sparrow  to  find; 
I  fear  yon  eagle  's  coming  to  rob  the  kid  of  breath, 
And  yet  perchance  if  long  it  lived,  it  might  be  tired  to  death. 

"  The  woodman  fells  one  tree,  and  another  rots  away, 
The  red  fox  killed  the  lambkin  white  at  sunset  yesterday; 
The  wolf,  though,  killed  the  fox,  and  the  wolf  itself  must  die, 
For  Arne  shot  him  down  to-day  before  the  dew  was  dry. 

"  I  '11  hie  me  to  the  valley  back  —  the  forest  is  as  bad ; 
And  I  must  see  to  take  good  heed,  lest  thinking  drive  me  mad. 
I  saw  a  boy  in  my  dreams,  though  where  I  cannot  tell  — 
But  I  know  he  had  killed  his  father  — I  think  it  was  in  Hell."  x 

He  came  home  and  told  his  mother  that  she 
might  send  out  in  the  parish  after  another 
herd-boy ;  he  wanted  to  manage  the  gard  him- 
Belf.     Thus  it  was  arranged  ;  but  the  mother 

1  Adapted  to  the  metre  of  the  original,  from  the  translation  of 
Augusta  Plesner  and  S.  Rugeley-Powers. 


ARNE.  55 

was  always  after  him  with  warnings  not  to 
overtax  himself  with  work.  She  used  also  to 
prepare  such  good  meals  for  him  at  this  time 
that  he  often  felt  ashamed ;  but  he  said  noth- 
ing. 

He  was   working   at  a  song,    the  refrain  of 

which  was  "  Over  the  lofty  mountains."     He 

I  never  succeeded  in   finishing  it,  and  this  was 

i  chiefly  because  he  wanted  to  have  the  refrain 

in  every  other  line ;  finally  he  gave  it  up. 

But  many  of  the  songs  he  made  got  out 
among  the  people,  where  they  were  well  liked  ; 
there  were  those  who  wished  very  much  to  talk 
with  him,  especially  as  they  had  known  him 
from  boyhood  up.  But  Arne  was  shy  of  all 
whom  he  did  not  know,  and  thought  ill  of 
them,  chief!}''  because  he  believed  they  thought 
ill  of  him. 

His  constant  companion  in  the  fields  was  a 
middle-aged  man,  called  Upland  Knut,  who  had 
a  habit  of  singing  over  his  work  ;  but  he  always 
sang   the    same  song.     After  listening  to  this 
for  a  few  months,  Arne  was  moved  to  ask  him 
if  he  did  not  know  any  others. 
"  No,"  was  the  man's  reply. 
Then  after   the  lapse  of  several  days,   once 
when  Knut  was  singing  his  song,  Arne  asked  : 
"■  How  did  you  chance  to  learn  this  one  f  " 


56  ARNE. 

"  Ob,  it  just  happened  so,"  said  the  man. 

Arne  went  straight  from  him  into  the  house  ; 
but  there  sat  his  mother  weeping,  a  sight  he  had 
not  seen  since  his  father's  death.  He  pretended 
not  to  notice  her,  and  went  toward  the  door 
again  ;  but  he  felt  his  mother  looking  sorrow- 
fully after  him  again  and  he  had  to  stop. 

"  What  are  you  crying  for,  mother  ?  " 

For  a  while  his  words  were  the  only  sound  in 
the  room,  and  therefore  they  came  back  to  him 
again  and  again,  so  often  that  he  felt  they  had 
not  been  said  gently  enough.  He  asked  once 
more :  — 

"  What  are  you  crying  for  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  am  sure  I  do  not  know  ;  "  but  now 
she  wept  harder  than  ever. 

He  waited  a  long  time,  then  was  forced  to 
say,  as  courageously  as  he  could  :  — 

"  There  must  be  something  you  are  crying 
about !  " 

Again  there  was  silence.  He  felt  very 
guilty,  although  she  had  said  nothing,  and  he 
knew  nothing. 

"  It  just  happened  so,"  said  the  mother. 
Presently  she  added,  "  I  am  after  all  most  fort- 
unate," and  then  she  wept. 

But  Arne  hastened  out.  and  he  felt  drawn 
toward  the  Kamp  gorge.     lie  sat  down  to  look 


ARNE.  ° ' 

into  it,  and  while  he  was  sitting  there,  he  too 
wept.  "  If  I  only  knew  what  I  was  crying  for," 
mused  Arne. 

Above  him,  in  the  new-plowed  field,  Upland 
Knut  was  singing  his  song :  — 

"  Ingerid  Sletten  of  Willow-pool 
Had  no  costly  trinkets  to  wear ; 
But  a  cap  she  had  that  was  far  more  fair, 
Although  it  was  only  of  wool. 

"  It  had  no  trimming,  and  now  was  old, 
But  her  mother  who  long  had  gone 
Had  given  it  her,  and  so  it  shone 
To  Ingerid  more  than  gold. 

"  For  twenty  years  she  laid  it  aside, 
That  it  might  not  be  worn  away; 
'  My  cap  I  '11  wear  on  that  blissful  day 
When  I  shall  become  a  bride.' 

M  For  thirty  j-ears  she  laid  it  aside 
Lest  the  colors  might  fade  away: 
'  My  cap  I  '11  wear  when  to  God  I  pray 
A  happy  and  grateful  bride.' 

"  For  forty  years  she  laid  it  aside, 
Still  holding  her  mother  as  dear  ; 
'  My  little  cap,  I  certainly  fear 
I  never  shall  be  a  bride.' 

"  She  went  to  look  for  the  cap  one  day 
In  the  chest  where  it  long  had  lain ; 
But  ah !  her  looking  was  all  in  vain, — 
The  cap  had  moldered  away."  i 

Arne  sat  and  listened  as  though  the  words 
had  been  music  far  away  up  the  slope.  He 
went  up  to  Knut. 

1  Translated  by  Augusta  Plesner  and  S.  Rugeley-Powers. 


58  ARNE. 

"  Have  you  a  mother?  "  asked  he. 

"No." 

"  Have  you  a  father  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no  ;  I  have  no  father." 

"  Is  it  long  since  they  died?" 

"  Oh,  yes ;  it  is  long  since." 

"  You  have  not  many,  I  dare  say,  who  care 
for  you  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no  ;  not  many." 

"  Have  you  any  one  here  ?  " 

"No,  not  here." 

"  But  yonder  in  your  native  parish  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no  ;  not  there  either." 

"  Have  you  not  any  one  at  all  who  cares  for 
you?" 

"  Oh,  no  ;  I  have  not." 

But  Arne  went  from  him  loving  his  own 
mother  so  intensely  that  it  seemed  as  though 
his  heart  would  break ;  and  he  felt,  as  it  were, 
a  blissful  light  over  him.  "  Thou  Heavenly 
Father,"  thought  he,  "  Thou  hast  given  her  to 
me,  and  such  unspeakable  love  with  the  gift, 
and  I  put  this  away  from  me  ;  and  one  day 
when  I  want  it,  she  will  be  perhaps  no  more !  " 
He  felt  a  desire  to  go  to  her,  if  for  nothing 
else  only  to  look  at  her.  But  on  the  way,  it 
suddenly  occurred  to  him  :  "  Perhaps  because 
you  did  not  appreciate  her  you  may  soon  have 


ARNE.  59 

to  endure  the  grief  of  losing  her !  "  He  stood 
still  at  once.  "  Almighty  God !  what  then 
would  become  of  me  ?  " 

He  felt  as  though  some  calamity  must  be 
happening  at  home.  He  hastened  toward  the 
house  ;  cold  sweat  stood  on  his  brow ;  his  feet 
scarcely  touched  the  ground.  He  tore  open 
the  passage  door,  but  within  the  whole  atmos- 
phere was  at  once  filled  with  peace.  He  softly 
opened  the  door  into  the  family-room.  The 
mother  had  gone  to  bed,  the  moon  shone  full  in 
in  her  face,  and  she  lay  sleeping  calmly  as  a 
child. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

Some  days  after  this,  mother  and  son,  who  of 
late  had  been  more  together,  agreed  to  be  pres- 
ent at  the  wedding  of  some  relatives  at  a 
neighboring  gard.  The  mother  had  not  been  to 
any  party  since  she  was  a  girl. 

They  knew  few  people  at  the  wedding,  save 
by  name,  and  Arne  thought  it  especially  strange 
that  everybody  stared  at  him  wherever  he  went. 

Once  some  words  were  spoken  behind  him 
in  the  passage  ;  he  was  not  sure,  but  he  fan- 
cied he  understood  them,  and  every  drop  of 
blood  rushed  into  his  face  whenever  he  thought 
of  them. 

He  could  not  keep  his  ej'es  off  the  man  who 
had  spoken  these  words ;  finally,  he  took  a  seat 
beside  him.  But  as  he  drew  up  to  the  table 
he  thought  the  conversation  took  another  turn. 

"  Well,  now  I  am  going  to  tell  you  a  story, 
which  proves  that  nothing  can  be  buried  so 
deep  down  in  night  that  it  will  not  find  its  way 
into  daylight,"  said  the  man,  and  Arne  was 
sure  he  looked  at  him.      He  was  an  ill-favored 


AKNE,  61 

man,  with  thin,  red  hair  encircling  a  great, 
round  brow.  Beneath  were  a  pair  of  very 
small  eyes  and  a  little  bottle-shaped  nose  ;  but 
the  month  was  yery  large,  with  very  pale,  nut- 
turned  lips.  When  he  laughed,  he  showed 
his  gums.  His  hands  lay  on  the  table  :  they 
were  clumsy  and  coarse,  but  the  wrists  were 
slender.  He  looked  sharp  and  talked  fast,  but 
with  much  effort.  People  nicknamed  him  the 
Rattle-tongue,  and  Arne  knew  that  tailor  Nils 
had  dealt  roughly  with  him  in  the  old  days. 

"  Yes,  there  is  a  great  deal  of  wickedness  in 
this  world ;  it  comes  nearer  home  to  us  than 
we  think.  But  no  matter  ;  you  shall  hear  now 
of  an  ugly  deed.  Those  who  are  old  remember 
Alf,  Scrip  Alf.  '  Sure  to  come  back  !  '  said 
Alf ;  that  saying  comes  from  him  ;  for  when 
he  had  struck  a  bargain  —  and  he  could  trade, 
that  fellow  !  —  he  flung  his  scrip  on  his  back. 
'  Sure  to  come  back,'  said  Alf.  A  devilish  good 
fellow,  fine  fellow,  splendid  fellow,  this  Alf, 
Scrip  Alf ! 

"  Well,  there  was  Alf  and  Big  Lazy-bones  — 
aye,  you  knew  Big  Lazy-bones  ?  —  he  was  big 
and  he  was  lazy  too.  He  looked  too  long  at 
a  shining  black  horse  Scrip  Alf  drove  and  had 
trained  to  spring  like  a  summer  frog.  And 
before    Big    Lazy-bones    knew    what    he    was 


62  ARNE. 

about,  he  had  given  fifty  dollars  for  the  nag ! 
Big  Lazy-bones  mounted  a  carriole,1  as  large  as 
life,  to  drive  like  a  king  with  his  fifty-dollar 
horse  ;  but  now  he  might  lash  and  swear  until 
the  gard  was  all  in  a  smoke  ;  the  horse  ran,  for 
all  that,  against  all  the  doors  and  walls  that 
were  in  the  way  ;  he  was  stone  blind. 

"Afterwards,  Alf  and  Big  Lazy-bones  fell  to 
quarreling  about  this  horse  all  through  the  par- 
ish, just  like  a  couple  of  dogs.  Big  Lazy-bones 
wanted  his  money  back;  but  you  may  believe 
he  never  got  so  much  as  two  Danish  shillings. 
Scrip  Alf  thrashed  him  until  the  hair  flew. 
'  Sure  to  come  back,'  said  Alf.  Devilish  good 
fellow,  fine  fellow,  splendid  fellow,  this  Alf  — 
Scrip  Alf. 

"  Well,  then,  some  years  passed  by  without 
his  being  heard  of  again. 

"  It  might  have  been  ten  years  later  that  he 
was  published  on  the  church  hill ; 2  there  had 
been  left  to  him  a  tremendous  fortune.  Big 
Lazy-bones  was  standing  by.  '  I  knew  very 
well,'  said  he,  '  that  it  was  money  that  was  cry- 
ing for  Scrip  Alf,  and  not  people.' 

"  Now  there  was  a  great  deal  of  gossip  about 
Alf ;  and  out  of  it  all  was  gathered  that  he  had 

1  A  kind  of  road-sulky  used  by  travelers  in  Norway. 

2  Important  announcements  are  made  to  the  people  in  front 
of  the  church  after  service. 


ARNE.  03 

been  seen  last  on  this  side  of  Roren,  and  not  on 
the  other.  Yes,  you  remember  the  Roren  road 
—  the  old  road  ? 

But  Big  Lazy-bones  had  succeeded  in  rising 
to  great  power  and  splendor,  owning  both  farm 
and  complete  outfit. 

Moreover,  he  had  professed  great  piety,  and 
everybody  knew  he  did  not  become  pious  for 
nothing  —  any  more  than  other  folks  do.  Peo- 
ple began  to  talk  about  it. 

It  was  at  this  time  that  the  Roren  road  was 
to  be  changed,  old-time  folks  wanted  to  go 
straight  ahead,  and  so  it  went  directly  over 
Roren  ;  but  we  like  things  level,  and  so  the 
road  now  runs  down  by  the  river.  There  was 
a  mining  and  a  blasting,  until  one  might  have 
expected  Roren  to  come  tumbling  down.  All 
sorts  of  officials  came  there,  but  the  amtmand x 
oftenest  of  all,  for  he  was  allowed  double  mile- 
age. And  now,  one  day  while  they  were  dig- 
ging down  among  the  rocks,  some  one  went  to 
pick  up  a  stone,  but  got  hold  of  a  hand  that 
was  sticking  out  of  the  rocks,  and  so  strong  was 
this  hand  that  it  sent  the  man  who  took  hold  of 
it  reeling  backwards.  Now  he  who  found  this 
hand  was  Big   Lazy-bones.      The   lensmand 2 

1  The  chief  magistrate  of  an  amt  jr  county. 

2  Bail  f£. 


64  ARNE. 

was  sauntering  about  there,  he  was  called,  and 
the  skeleton  of  a  whole  roan  was  dug  out.  The 
doctor  was  sent  for  too ;  he  put  the  bones  so 
skillfully  together  that  now  only  the  flesh  was 
wanting.  But  people  claimed  that  this  skele- 
ton was  precisely  the  same  size  as  Scrip  Alf. 
'  Sure  to  come  back  ! '  said  Alf. 

"  Every  one  thought  it  most  strange  that  a 
dead  hand  could  upset  a  fellow  like  Big  Lazy- 
bones, even  when  it  did  not  strike  at  all.  The 
lensmand  talked  seriously  to  him  about  it,  —  of 
course  when  no  one  was  by  to  hear.  But  then 
Big  Lazy-bones  swore  until  everything  grew 
black  about  the  lensmand. 

"  '  Well,  well,'  said  the  lensmand,  '  if  you 
had  nothing  to  do  with  this,  you  are  just  the 
fellow  to  go  to  bed  with  the  skeleton  to-night  ; 
hey  ?  '  'To  be  sure  I  am,'  replied  Big  Lazy- 
bones. And  now  the  doctor  jointed  the  bones 
firmly  together,  and  placed  the  skeleton  in  one 
of  the  beds  of  the  barracks.  In  the  other  Big 
Lazy-bones  was  to  sleep,  but  the  lensmand  laid 
down  in  his  gown,  close  up  to  the  wall.  When 
it  grew  dark  and  Big  Lazy-bones  had  to  go  in 
to  his  bed-fellow,  it  just  seemed  as  though  the 
door  shut  of  itself,  and  he  stood  in  the  dark. 
But  Big  Lazy-bones  fell  to  singing  hymns,  for 
he  had  a  strong  voice.     '  Why  are  you  singing 


ARXE.  65 

hymns  ? '  asked  the  lensmand,  outside  of  the 
wall.  '  No  one  knows  whether  he  has  had  the 
choi'ister,'  answered  Big  Lazy-bones.  After- 
ward he  fell  to  praying  with  all  his  might. 
'  Why  are  you  praying?  '  asked  the  lensmand, 
outside  of  the  wall.  '  He  has  no  doubt  been  a 
great  sinner,'  answered  Big  Lazy-bones.  Then 
for  a  long  time  all  was  still,  and  it  really 
seemed  as  though  the  lensmand  must  be  sleep- 
ing. Then  there  was  a  shriek  that  made  the 
barracks  shake.  '  Sure  to  come  back ! '  An  in- 
fernal noise  and  uproar  arose :  '  Hand  over  those 
fifty  dollars  of  mine  ! '  bellowed  Big  Lazy-bones, 
and  there  followed  a  screaming  and  a  wrest- 
ling ;  the  lensmand  flung  open  the  door,  people 
rushed  in  with  sticks  and  stones,  and  there 
lay  Big  Lazy-bones  in  the  middle  of  the  floor, 
and  on  him  was  the  skeleton." 

It  was  very  still  around  the  table.  Finally 
a  man  who  was  about  to  light  his  clay  pipe, 
said  :  — 

"  He  surely  went  mad  after  that  day." 

"  He  did." 

Arne  felt  every  one  looking  at  him,  and 
therefore  he  could  not  raise  his  eyes. 

"  It  is,  as  I  have  said,"  put  in  the  first 
speaker ;    "  nothing    can    be   buried    so   deep 


66  ARNE. 

down  in  night  that  it  will  not  find  its  way  into 
daylight ! " 

"  Well,  now  I  will  tell  about  a  son  who  beat 
his  own  father,"  said  a  fair,  heavily-built  man, 
with  a  round  face.  Arne  knew  not  where  he 
was  sitting. 

"  It  was  a  bully  of  a  powerful  race,  over  in 
Hardanger;  he  was  the  ruin  of  many  people. 
His  father  and  he  disagreed  about  the  yearly 
allowance,  and  the  result  of  this  was  that  the 
man  had  no  peace  at  home  or  in  the  parish. 

"  Owing  to  this  he  grew  more  and  more 
wicked,  and  his  father  took  him  to  task.  '  I 
will  take  rebuke  from  no  one,'  said  the  son. 
'  From  me  you  shall  take  it  as  long  as  I  live,' 
said  the  father.  '  If  you  do  not  hold  your 
tongue  I  will  beat  you,'  said  the  son,  and  sprang 
to  his  feet.  '  Aye,  do  so  if  you  dare,  and  you 
will  never  prosper  in  the  world,'  answered  the 
father,  as  he  too  rose.  '  Do  you  think  so  ?  '  — 
and  the  son  rushed  at  him  and  knocked  him 
down.  But  the  father  did  not  resist;  he  crossed 
his  arms  and  let  his  son  do  as  he  chose  witli 
him. 

"  The  son  beat  him,  seized  hold  of  him  and 
dragged  him  to  the  door.  '  I  will  have  peace 
in  the  house  ! '  But  when  they  came  to  the 
door,  the  father  raised  himself  up.     '  Not  far- 


ARNE.  67 

tlier  than  to  the  door,'  said  he,  '  for  so  far  I 
dragged  my  own  father.'  The  son  paid  no  heed 
to  this,  but  dragged  his  head  across  the  thresh- 
old. '  Not  farther  than  to  the  door,  I  say  !  ' 
Here  the  old  man  flung  his  son  down  at  his 
feet,  and  chastised  him,  just  as  though  he  were 
a  child." 

"  That  was  badly  done,"  said  several. 

"  Did  not  strike  his  father,  though,"  Arne 
thought  some  one  said ;  but  he  was  not  sure 
of  it. 

"  Now  I  shall  tell  you  something,"  said  Arne, 
rising  up,  as  pale  as  death,  not  knowing  what 
he  was  going  to  say.  He  only  saw  the  words 
floating  about  him  like  great  snow-flakes.  "  I 
will  make  a  grasp  at  them  hap-hazarcl ! "  and 
he  began. 

"  A  troll  met  a  boy  who  was  walking  along 
a  road  crying.  '  Of  whom  are  you  most 
afraid  ? '  said  the  troll,  '  of  yourself,  or  of 
others  ?  '  But  the  boy  was  crying,  because  he 
had  dreamed  in  the  night  that  he  had  been 
forced  to  kill  his  wicked  father,  and  so  he  an- 
swered, '  I  am  most  afraid  of  myself.'  '  Then 
be  at  peace  with  yourself,  and  never  cry  any 
more ;  for  hereafter  you  shall  only  be  at  war 
with  others.'  And  the  troll  went  his  way.  But 
the  first  person  the  boy  met  laughed  at  him, 


68  ARNE. 

and  so  the  boy  bad  to  laugb  back  again.  Tbe 
next  person  he  met  struck  hirn  ;  tbe  boy  bad 
to  defend  himself,  and  struck  back.  The  third 
person  he  met  tried  to  kill  him,  and  so  tbe  boy 
had  to  take  his  life.  Then  everybody  said 
hard  things  about  him,  and  therefore  he  knew 
only  hard  things  to  say  of  everybody.  They 
locked  their  cupboards  and  doors  against  him, 
so  he  had  to  steal  his  way  to  what  he  needed ; 
he  even  had  to  steal  his  night's  rest.  Since 
they  would  not  let  him  do  anything  good,  he 
had  to  do  something  bad.  Tben  the  parish 
said,  '  We  must  get  rid  of  this  boy ;  he  is 
so  bad;  and  one  fine  day  they  put  him  out  of 
the  way.  But  the  boy  had  not  the  least  idea 
that  he  had  done  anything  wicked,  and  so  after 
death  he  came  strolling  right  into  the  presence 
of  the  Lord.  There  on  a  bench  sat  the  father 
he  had  not  slain,  and  right  opposite,  on  another 
bench,  sat  all  those  who  had  forced  him  to  do 
wrong. 

"  '  Which  bench  are  you  afraid  of?'  asked 
the  Lord,  and  tbe  boy  pointed  to  the  long  one. 

"  '  Sit  down  there,  beside  your  father,'  said 
the  Lord,  and  the  boy  turned  to  do  so. 

"  Then  the  father  fell  from  the  bench,  with 
a  great  gash  in  his  neck.  In  his  place  there 
came  one  in  the  likeness  of  the  boy,  with  re- 


ARNE.  69 

pentant  countenance  and  ghastly  features  ;  then 
another  with  drunken  face  and  drooping  form ; 
still  another  with  the  face  of  a  madman,  with 
tattered  clothes  and  with  hideous  laughter. 

"  '  Thus  it  might  have  been  with  you,'  said 
the  Lord. 

"  '  Can  that  really  be  ? '  replied  the  boy, 
touching  the  hem  of  the  Lord's  garment. 

"  Then  both  benches  fell  down  from  heaven, 
and  the  boy  stood  beside  the  Lord  again  and 
laughed. 

"  '  Remember  this  when  you  awaken,'  said 
the  Lord,  and  at  that  moment  the  boy  awoke. 

"  Now  the  boy  who  dreamed  thus  is  I,  and 
they  who  tempted  him  by  thinking  him  wicked 
are  you.  I  no  longer  fear  myself,  but  I  am 
afraid  of  you.  Do  not  stir  up  my  evil  pas- 
sions, for  it  is  doubtful  whether  I  may  get  hold 
of  the  Lord's  garment. 

He  rushed  out,  and  the  men  looked  at  each 
other. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

It  was  the  next  day,  in  the  barn  of  the  same 
gard.  Arne  had  been  drunk  for  the  first  time 
in  his  life,  was  ill  in  consequence  of  it,  and 
had  been  lying  in  the  barn  almost  twenty-four 
hours.  Now,  turning  over,  he  had  propped 
himself  up  on  his  elbows,  and  thus  talked  with 
himself  :  — 

"  Everything  I  look  at  becomes  cowardice. 
That  I  did  not  run  away  when  I  was  a  boy, 
was  cowardice ;  that  I  listened  to  father  rather 
than  to  mother,  was  cowardice ;  that  I  sang 
those  wicked  songs  for  him  was  cowardice  ;  I 
became  a  herd-boy,  that  was  from  cowardice  ; 

—  I  took  to  reading  —  oh,  yes  !  that  was  from 
cowardice,  too;  I  wanted  to  hide  away  from 
myself.  Even  after  I  was  grown  up,  I  did  not 
help  mother  against  father  —  cowardice  ;  that 
I  did  not  that  night  —  ugh !  —  cowardice !  I 
should  most  likely  have  waited  until  she  was 
killed.     I  could  not  stand  it  at  home  after  that 

—  cowardice;  neither  did  I  go  my  way  —  cow- 
ardice ;  I  did  nothing,  I  tended  cattle  —  cow- 


ARNE.  71 

ardice.  To  be  sure,  I  had  promised  mother  to 
stay  with  her ;  but  I  should  actually  have  been 
cowardly  enough  to  break  the  promise,  had  I 
not  been  afraid  to  mingle  with  people.  For  I 
am  afraid  of  people  chiefly  because  I  believe 
they  see  how  bad  I  am.  And  it  is  fear  of  peo- 
ple makes  me  speak  ill  of  them  —  cursed  cow- 
ardice !  I  make  rhymes  from  cowardice.  I 
dare  not  think  in  a  straightforward  manner 
about  my  own  affairs,  and  so  I  turn  to  those 
of  others  —  and  that  is  to  be  a  poet. 

"  I  should  have  sat  down  and  cried  until  the 
hills  were  turned  into  water,  that  is  what  I 
should  have  done  ;  but  instead  I  say  :  '  Hush, 
hush!'  and  set  myself  to  rocking.  And  even 
my  songs  are  cowardly ;  for  were  they  cour- 
ageous they  would  be  better.  I  am  afraid  of 
strong  thoughts  ;  afraid  of  everything  that  is 
strong ;  if  I  do  rise  up  to  strength,  it  is  in  a 
frenzy,  and  frenzy  is  cowardice.  I  am  more 
clever,  more  capable,  better  informed  than  I 
seem  to  be.  I  am  better  than  my  words ;  but 
through  cowardice  I  dare  not  be  what  I  am. 
Fy  !  I  drank  brandy  from  cowardice  ;  I  wanted 
to  deaden  the  pain  !  Fy !  it  hurt.  I  drank, 
nevertheless;  drank,  nevertheless;  drank  my 
father's  heart's  blood,  and  yet  I  drank !  The 
fact  is,   my  cowardice  is  beyond  all  bounds ; 


i  '1  ARNE. 

but  the  most  cowardly  thing  of  all  is  that  I  can 
sit  here  and  say  all  this  to  myself. 

"  Kill  myself  ?  Pooh  !  For  that  I  am  too 
cowardly.  And  then  I  believe  in  God,  —  yes, 
I  believe  in  God.  I  long  to  go  to  Him  ;  but 
cowardice  keeps  me  from  Him.  From  so  great 
a  change  a  cowardly  person  winces.  But  what 
if  I  tried  as  well  as  I  am  able?  Almighty 
God  !  What  if  I  tried  ?  I  might  find  a  cure 
that  even  my  milksop  nature  could  bear ;  for 
I  have  no  bone  in  me  any  longer,  nor  gristle ; 

only   something  fluid,  slush What  if  I 

tried,  with  good,  mild  books,  —  I  am  afraid 
of  the  strong  ones,  —  with  pleasant  stories  and 
legends,  all  such  as  are  mild ;  and  then  a  ser- 
mon every  Sunday  and  a  prayer  every  evening, 
and  regular  work,  that  religion  may  find  fruit- 
ful soil ;  it  cannot  do  so  amid  slothfulness. 
What  if  I  tried,  dear,  gentle  God  of  my 
childhood,  —  what  if  I  tried  ?  " 

But  some  one  opened  the  barn-door,  and 
hurried  across  the  floor,  pale  as  death,  although 
drops  of  sweat  rolled  down  the  face.  It  was 
Arne's  mother.  It  was  the  second  day  she  had 
been  seeking  for  her  son.  She  called  his  name, 
but  did  not  pause  to  listen  ;  only  called  and 
rushed  about,  till  he  answered  from  the  hay- 
mow, where  he  was  lying.     She  gave  a  loud 


ARNE.  *  6 

shriek,  sprang  to  the  mow  more  lightly  than 
a  boy,  and  threw  herself  upon  him. 

"  Arne,  Arne,  are  you  here  ?  So  I  have 
really  found  you.  I  have  been  looking  for  you 
since  yesterday  ;  I  have  searched  the  whole 
night !  Poor,  poor  Arne !  I  saw  they  had 
wounded  you.  I  wanted  so  much  to  talk  with 
you  and  comfort  you  ;  but  then  I  never  dare 
talk  with  you  !  Arne,  I  saw  you  drink  !  O 
God  Almighty !  let  me  never  see  it  again  !" 

It  was  long  before  she  could  say  more.  "  Je- 
sus have  mercy  on  you,  my  child ;  I  saw  you 
di-ink  !  Suddenly  you  were  gone,  drunk  and 
crushed  with  grief  as  you  were,  and  I  ran 
around  to  all  the  houses.  I  went  far  out  in  the 
field  ;  I  did  not  find  you.  I  searched  in  every 
copse  ;  I  asked  every  one.  I  was  here,  too,  but 
you  did  not  answer  me  —  Arne,  Arne  !  I 
walked  along  the  river ;  but  it  did  not  seem  to 
be  deep  enough  anywhere  "  —  She  pressed  up 
close  to  him.  "  Then  it  came  with  such  relief 
to  my  mind  that  you  might  have  gone  home, 
and  I  am  sure  I  was  not  more  than  a  quarter  of 
an  hour  getting  over  the  road.  I  opened  the 
door  and  looked  in  every  room,  and  then  first 
remembered  that  I  myself  had  the  key  ;  you 
could  not  possibly  have  entered.  Arne,  last 
night  I  searched  along  the  road  on  both  sides ; 


74  ARNE. 

I  dared  not  go  to  the  Kamp  gorge.  I  know 
not  how  I  came  here  ;  no  one  helped  me ;  but 
the  Lord  put  it  into  my  heart  that  you  must 
be  here  !  " 

He  tried  to  soothe  her. 

"  Arne,  indeed,  you  must  never  drink  brandy 
again." 

"  No,  you  may  be  sure  of  that." 

"  They  must  have  been  very  rough  with  you. 
Were  they  rough  with  you  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no  ;  it  was  I  who  was  cowardly."  He 
laid  stress  on  the  word. 

"  I  cannot  exactly  understand  why  they 
should  be  rough  with  you.  What  was  it  they 
did  to  you  ?  You  will  never  tell  me  anything," 
and  she  began  to  weep  again. 

"■You  never  tell  me  anything,  either,"  said 
Arne,  gently. 

"  But  you  are  most  to  blame,  Arne.  I  got 
so  into  the  habit  of  being  silent  in  your  father's 
day  that  you  ought  to  have  helped  me  a  little 
on  the  way  !  My  God  !  there  are  only  two  of 
us,  and  we  have  suffered  so  much  together!  " 

"  Let  us  see  if  we  cannot  do  better,"  whis- 
pered Arne.  "  Next  Sunday  I  will  read  the 
6ermon  to  you." 

"  God  bless  you  for  that !     Arne  ?  " 

"Yes?" 


ARNE.  75 

"  I  have  something  I  ought  to  say  to  you." 

"  Say  it,  mother." 

"  I  have  sinned  greatly  against  you  ;  I  have 
done  something  wrong." 

"  You,  mother  ?  "  And  it  touched  him  so 
deeply  that  his  own  good,  infinitely  patient 
mother  should  accuse  herself  of  having  sinned 
against  him,  who  had  never  been  really  good  to 
her,  that  he  put  his  arm  round  her,  patted  her, 
and  burst  into  tears. 

"  Yes,  I  have  ;  and  yet  I  could  not  help  it." 

"  Oh,  you  have  never  wronged  me  in  any 
way." 

"  Yes,  I  have,  —  God  knows  it ;  it  was  only 
because  I  was  so  fond  of  you.  But  you  must 
forgive  me  ;  do  you  hear  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  will  forgive  you." 

"  Well,  then,  I  will  tell  you  about  it  anotner 
time  ;  but  you  will  forgive  me  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  mother  !  " 

"  You  see,  it  is  perhaps  because  of  this  that 
it  has  been  so  hard  to  talk  with  you  ;  I  have 
sinned  against  you." 

"  I  beg  of  you  not  to  talk  so,  mother." 

"  I  am  happy  now,  having  been  able  to  say 
so  much." 

"  We  must  talk  more  together,  we  two, 
mother." 


76  AENE. 

"  Yes,   that  we   must ;    and   then   you   will 
really  read  the  sermon  for  me  ?  " 
"  Yes,  I  will  do  so." 
"  Poor  Arne  !  God  bless  you  !  " 
"  I  think  it  is  best  for  us  to  go  home." 
"  Yes,  we  will  go  home." 
"  Why  are  you  looking  round  so,  mother  ?  " 
"  Your  father  lay  in  this  barn,  and  wept." 
"  Father  ?  "  said  Arne,  and  grew  very  pale. 
"  Poor  Nils  !    It  was  the  day  you  were  chris- 
tened.    Why  are  you  looking  round,  Arne  ?  " 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

From  the  day  that  Arne  tried  with  his  whole 
heart  to  live  closer  to  his  mother  his  relations 
with  other  people  were  entirely  changed.  He 
looked  on  them  more  with  the  mother's  mild 
eyes.  But  he  often  found  it  hard  to  keep  true 
to  his  resolve  ;  for  what  he  thought  most  deeply 
about  his  mother  did  not  always  understand. 
Here  is  a  song  from  those  days  :  — 

"  It  was  such  a  pleasant,  sunny  day, 

In-doors  I  could  not  think  of  staying : 
I  strolled  to  the  wood,  on  rny  back  I  lay, 

And  rocked  what  my  mind  was  saying; 
But  there  crawled  emmets,  and  gnats  stung  there, 
The  wasps  and  the  clegs  brought  dire  despair. 

"  '  My  dear,  will  you  not  go  out  in  this  pleas- 
ant weather  ? '  said  mother.  She  sat  singing  on 
the  porch. 

"  It  was  such  a  pleasant,  sunny  day, 

In-doors  I  could  not  think  of  staying : 
I  strayed  to  a  field,  on  my  back  I  lay, 

And  sang  what  my  mind  was  saying ; 
But  snakes  came  out  to  enjoy  the  sun, 
Three  ells  were  they  long,  and  away  I  run. 

"  '  In  such  pleasant  weather  we  can  go  bare- 


78  ARNE. 

foot,'  said  mother,  and  she  pulled  off  her  stock- 
ings. 

"  It  was  such  a  pleasant,  sunny  day, 
In-doors  I  could  no  longer  tarry : 
I  stepped  in  a  boat,  on  my  back  I  lay, 

The  tide  did  me  onward  carry ; 
The  sun,  though,  scorched  till  my  nose  was  burned ; 
There  's  limit  to  all,  so  to  shore  I  turned. 

"  '  What  fine  days  these  are  for  drying  the 
hay ! '  said  mother,  as  she  shook  it  with  a  rake. 

"  It  was  such  a  pleasant,  sunny  day, 

In-doors  I  could  not  think  of  staying : 
I  climbed  up  a  tree,  and  thought  there  I  'd  stay, 

For  there  were  cool  breezes  playing. 
A  grub  to  fall  on  my  neck  then  there  chanced ; 
I  sprang  down  and  screamed,  and  how  madly  I  danced. 

" '  Well,  if  the  cow  does  not  thrive  such  a  day 
as  this,  she  never  will,'  said  mother,  as  she 
gazed  up  the  slope. 

"  It  was  such  a  pleasant,  sunny  day, 

In-doors  I  could  no  peace  discover: 
I  made  for  the  force  that  did  loudly  play, 

For  there  it  must  surely  hover ; 
But  there  I  drowned  while  the  sun  still  shone. 
If  you  made  this  song,  it  is  surely  not  my  own.1 

"  '  It  would  take  only  about  three  such  sunny 
days  to  get  everything  under  cover,'  said  moth- 
er ;  and  off  she  started  to  make  my  bed." 

Nevertheless,    this    companionship  with    his 

1  Auber  Forestier's  translation. 


ARNE.  79 

mother  brought  every  day  more  and  more  com- 
fort to  Arne.  What  she  did  not  understand 
formed  quite  as  much  of  a  tie  between  them  as 
what  she  did  understand.  For  the  fact  of  her 
not  comprehending  a  thing  made  him  think  it 
over  oftener,  and  she  grew  only  the  dearer  to 
him  because  he  found  her  limits  on  every  side. 
Yes,  she  became  infinitely  dear  to  him. 

As  a  child,  Arne  had  not  cared  much  for 
nursery  stories.  Now,  as  a  grown  person,  he 
longed  for  them,  and  the}''  led  to  traditions  and 
ancient  ballads.  His  mind  was  filled  with  a 
wonderful  yearning ;  he  walked  much  alone, 
and  many  of  the  places  round  about,  which  for- 
merly he  had  not  noticed,  seemed  strangely 
beautiful.  In  the  days  when  he  had  gone  with 
those  of  his  own  age  to  the  priest's  to  prepare 
for  confirmation,  he  had  often  played  with  them 
by  a  large  lake  below  the  parsonage,  called 
Black  Water,  because  it  was  deep  and  black. 
Ke  began  to  think  of  this  lake  now,  and  one 
evening  he  wended  his  wray  thither. 

He  sat  down  behind  a  copse,  just  at  the  foot 
of  the  parsonage.  This  lay  on  the  side  of  a  very 
steep  hill,  which  towered  up  beyond  until  it 
became  a  high  mountain ;  the  opposite  bank 
was  similar,  and  therefore  huge  shadows  were 
cast  over  the  lake  from  both  sides,  but  in  its 


80  ARNE. 

centre  was  a  stripe  of  beautiful  silvery  water. 
All  was  at  rest ;  the  sun  was  just  setting ;  a 
faint  sound  of  tinkling  bells  floated  over  from 
the  opposite  shore  ;  otherwise  profound  silence 
reigned.  Arne  did  not  look  right  across  the 
lake,  but  first  turned  his  eyes  toward  its  lower 
end,  for  there  the  sun  was  shedding  a  sprink- 
ling of  burning  red,  ere  it  departed.  Down  there 
the  mountains  had  parted  to  make  room  be- 
tween them  for  a  long,  low  valley,  and  against 
this  the  waves  dashed  ;  and  it  seemed  as  though 
the  mountains  had  gradually  sloped  together  to 
form  a  swing  in  which  to  rock  this  valley,  which 
was  dotted  with  its  many  gards.  The  curling 
smoke  rose  upward,  and  passed  from  sight ;  the 
fields  were  green  and  reeking  ;  boats  laden  with 
hay  were  approaching  the  landings.  Arne  saw 
many  people  passing  to  and  fro,  but  could 
hear  no  noise.  Thence  the  eye  wandered  be- 
yond the  shore,  where  God's  dark  forest  alone 
loomed  up.  Through  the  forest  and  along  the 
lake  men  had  drawn  a  road,  as  it  were,  witli 
a  finger,  for  a  winding  streak  of  dust  plainly 
marked  its  course.  This  Arne's  eye  followed 
until  it  came  directly  opposite  to  where  he  was 
sitting  ;  there  the  forest  ended  ;  the  mountains 
made  a  little  more  room,  and  straightways  gavd 
after  gard  lay  spread  about.     The  houses  were 


ARNE.  81 

still  larger  than  those  at  the  lower  end,  were 
painted  red,  and  had  higher  windows,  which 
now  were  in  a  blaze  of  light.  The  hills  sparkled 
in  dazzling  sunshine  ;  the  smallest  child  playing 
about  could  be  plainly  seen  ;  glittering  white 
sand  lay  dry  on  the  shore,  and  upon  this  little 
children  bounded  with  their  dogs.  But  sud- 
denly the  whole  scene  became  desolate  and 
gloomy;  the  houses  dark  red,  the  meadows 
dingy  green,  the  sand  grayish-white,  and  the 
children  small  clumps :  a  mass  of  mist  had 
risen  above  the  mountains,  and  had  shut  out 
the  sun.  Arne  kept  his  eye  fixed  on  the  lake  ; 
there  he  found  everything  again.  The  fields 
were  rocking  there,  and  the  forest  silently 
joined  them  ;  the  houses  stood  looking  down, 
doors  open,  and  children  going  out  and  in. 
Nursery  tales  and  childish  things  came  throng- 
ing into  his  mind,  as  little  fish  come  after  a 
bait,  swim  away,  come  back  again,  but  do  not 
nibble. 

"  Let  us  sit  clown  here  until  your  mother 
comes  ;  the  priest's  lady  will  surely  get  through 
some  time." 

Arne  was  startled ;  some  one  had  sat  down 
just  behind  him. 

"  But  I  might  be  allowed  to  stay  just  this  one 
night,"  said   a  beseeching  voice,   choked  with 


82  ARNE. 

tears  ;  it  seemed  to  be  that  of  a  young  girl,  not 
quite  grown  up. 

"  Do  not  cry  any  more ;  it  is  shocking  to  cry 
because  you  must  go  home  to  your  mother." 
This  last  came  in  a  mild  voice  that  spoke  slowly 
and  belonged  to  a  man. 

"  That  is  not  the  reason  I  am  crying." 

"  Why  are  you  crying,  then  ?  " 

"  Because  I  shall  no  longer  be  with  Ma- 
thilde." 

This  was  the  name  of  the  priest's  only 
daughter,  and  reminded  Arne  that  a  peasant 
girl  had  been  brought  up  with  her. 

"  That  could  not  last  forever,  any  way." 

"  Yes,  but  just  one  day  longer,  dear  !  "  and 
she  sobbed  violently. 

"  It  is  best  you  should  go  home  at  once  ;  per- 
haps it  is  already  too  late." 

"  Too  late  ?  Why  so  ?  Who  ever  heard  of 
such  a  thing  ?  " 

"  You  are  peasant-born,  and  a  peasant  you 
shall  remain  ;  we  cannot  afford  to  keep  a  fine 
lady." 

"  I  should  still  be  a  peasant,  even  if  I  re- 
mained here." 

"  You  are  no  judge  of  that." 

"  I  have  always  worn  peasant's  clothes." 

"  It  is  not  that  which  makes  the  difference." 


ARNE.  83 

"  I  have  been  spinning  and  weaving  and 
cooking." 

"  It  is  not  that,  either." 

"  I  can  talk  just  as  you  and  mother  do." 

"  Not  that,  either." 

"  Then  I  do  not  know  what  it  can  be,"  said 
the  girl,  and  laughed. 

"  Time  will  show.  Besides,  I  am  afraid  you 
already  have  too  many  ideas." 

"  Ideas,  ideas  !  You  are  always  saying  that. 
I  have  no  ideas."     She  wept  again. 

"Oh,  you  are  a  weathercock, — that  you 
are!" 

"  The  priest  never  said  so." 

"  No,  but  now  /say  so." 

"  A  weathercock  ?  Who  ever  heard  of  such 
a  thing  ?     I  will  not  be  a  weathercock." 

"  Come,  then,  what  will  you  be  ?  " 

"  What  will  I  be  ?  Did  you  ever  hear  the 
like  ?     I  will  be  nothing." 

"  Very  good,  then  ;  be  nothing." 

Now  the  girl  laughed.  Presently  she  said, 
gravely,  "  It  is  unkind  of  you  to  say  I  am 
nothing." 

"  Dear  me,  when  that  was  what  you  wanted 
to  be  yourself !" 

"  No,  I  do  not  want  to  be  nothing." 

"  Very  good,  then  ;  be  everything." 


84  ARNE. 

The  girl  laughed.  Presently,  with  a  sorrow- 
ful voice,  "  The  priest  never  fooled  with  me  in 
this  way."' 

"  No,  he  onlj  made  a  fool  of  you." 

"  The  priest  ?  You  have  never  been  so  kind 
to  me  as  the  priest  has." 

"  No,  for  that  would  have  spoiled  you." 

"  Sour  milk  can  never  become  sweet." 

"  Oh,  yes,  when  it  is  boiled  to  whey." 

Here  the  girl  burst  out  laughing. 

"  There  comes  your  mother." 

Then  she  grew  sober  again. 

"  Such  a  long-winded  woman  as  the  priest's 
lady  I  have  never  met  in  all  the  days  of  my 
life,"  here  interposed  a  shrill,  rattling  voice. 
"  Make  haste,  now,  Baard.  Get  up  and  push 
the  boat  out.  We  will  not  get  home  to-night. 
The  lady  wished  me  to  see  that  Eli  kept 
her  feet  dry.  Dear  me,  you  will  have  to  see 
to  that  yourself.  Every  morning  she  must 
take  a  walk,  for  the  sake  of  her  health.  It 
is  health,  health,  from  morning  till  night. 
Get  up,  now,  Baard,  and  push  out  the  boat. 
Just  think,  I  have  to  set  sponge  this  even- 
ing  !  " 

"  The  chest  has  not  come  yet,"  said  he,  and 
lay  still. 

"  But  the  chest  is  not  to  come,  either ;  it  is 


ARNE.  85 

to  remain  until  the  first  Sunday  there  is  -serv- 
ice. Do  you  hear,  Eli  ?  Pick  yourself  up  ; 
take  your  bundle,  and  come.  Get  up,  now, 
Baard !  " 

She  led  the  way,  and  the  girl  followed. 

"  Come,  now,  I  say,  —  come  now ! "  resounded 
from  below. 

"  Have  you  looked  after  the  ping  in  the 
boat  ?  "  asked  Baard,  still  without  rising. 

"Yes,  it  is  there  ;  "  and  Arne  heard  her  just 
then  hammering  it  in  with  the  scoop.  "  But 
get  up,  I  say,  Baard !  Surely  we  are  not  to 
stay  here  all  night  ?  " 

"  I  am  waiting  for  the  chest." 

"  But,  my  dear,  bless  you,  I  have  told  you  it 
is  to  wait  until  the  first  Sunday  there  is  serv- 
ice." 

"  There  it  comes,"  said  Baard,  and  they 
heard  the  rattling  of  a  cart. 

"  Why,  I  said  it  was  to  wait  until  the  first 
Sunday  there  is  service." 

"  I  said  we  were  to  take  it  along." 

Without  anything  further,  the  wife  hastened 
up  to  the  cart,  and  carried  the  bundle,  the  lunch- 
box,  and  other  small  things  down  to  the  boat. 
Then  Baard  arose,  went  up,  and  took  the  chest 
himself. 

But  behind  the  cart  there  came  rushing  along 


86  ARNE. 

a  girl  in  a  straw  hat,  with  floating  hair ;  it  was 
the  priest's  daughter. 

"Eli !   Eli !  "  she  called,  as  she  ran. 

"  Mathilde  !  Mathilde  !  "  Eli  answered,  and 
ran  toward  her. 

They  met  on  the  hill,  put  their  arms  about 
each  other,  and  wept.  Then  Mathilde  took  up 
something  she  had  set  down  on  the  grass :  it 
was  a  bird-cage. 

"  You  shall  have  Narrifas ;  yes,  you  shall. 
Mother  wishes  it,  too.  You  shall,  after  all,  have 
Narrifas,  —  indeed,  you  shall ;  and  then  you 
will  think  of  me.  And  very  often  row  —  row 
—  row  over  to  me,"  and  the  tears  of  both  flowed 
freely. 

"  Eli !  Come,  now,  Eli !  Do  not  stand 
there  !  "  was  heard  from  below. 

"  But  I  want  to  go  along,"  said  Mathilde.  "  I 
want  to  go  and  sleep  with  you  to-night !  " 

"  Yes,  yes,  yes  !  "  and  with  arms  twined  about 
each  other's  necks  they  moved  down  toward  the 
landing. 

Presently  Arne  saw  the  boat  out  on  the 
water.  Eli  stood  high  on  the  stern,  with  the 
bird-cage,  and  waved  her  hand ;  Mathilde  was 
left  behind,  and  sat  on  the  stone  landing  weep- 
ing. 

She  remained  sitting  there   as  long  as  the 


ARNE.  87 

boat  was  on  the  water  ;  it  was  but  a  short  dis- 
tance across  to  the  red  house,  as  said  before ; 
and  Arne  kept  his  seat,  too.  He  watched  the 
boat,  as  she  did.  It  soon  passed  into  the  dark- 
ness, and  he  waited  until  it  drew  up  to  the 
shore  :  then  he  saw  Eli  and  her  parents  in  the 
water  ;  in  it  he  followed  them  up  toward  the 
houses,  until  they  came  to  the  prettiest  one  of 
them  all.  He  saw  the  mother  go  in  first,  then 
the  father  with  the  chest,  and  last  of  all  the 
daughter,  so  far  as  he  could  judge  from  their 
size.  Soon  after  the  daughter  came  out  again, 
and  sat  down  in  front  of  the  store-house  door, 
probably  that  she  might  gaze  over  at  the  other 
side,  where  at  that  moment  the  sun  was  shed- 
ding its  parting  rays.  But  the  young  lady 
from  the  parsonage  had  already  gone,  and  Arne 
alone  sat  watching  Eli  in  the  water. 

"  I  wonder  if  she  sees  me  !  " 

He  got  up  and  moved  away.  The  sun  had 
set,  but  the  sky  was  bright  and  clear  blue,  as  it 
often  is  of  a  summer  night.  Mist  from  land 
and  water  rose  and  floated  over  the  mountains 
on  both  sides  ;  but  the  peaks  held  themselves 
above  it,  and  stood  peering  at  one  another. 
He  went  higher  up.  The  lake  grew  blacker  and 
deeper,  and  seemed,  as  it  were,  to  contract. 
The  upper  valley  shortened,  and  drew  closer  to 


88  ARNE. 

the  lake.  The  mountains  were  nearer  to  the  eye, 
but  looked  more  like  a  shapeless  mass,  for  the 
light  of  the  sun  defines.  The  sky  itself  ap- 
peared nearer,  and  all  surrounding  objects  be- 
came friendly  and  familiar. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

Love  and  woman  were  beginning  to  play  a 
prominent  part  in  his  thoughts  ;  in  the  ancient 
ballads  and  stories  of  the  olden  times  such 
themes  were  reflected  as  in  a  magic  mirror, 
just  as  the  girl  had  been  in  the  lake.  He 
constantly  brooded  over  them,  and  after  that 
evening  he  found  pleasure  in  singing  about 
them  ;  for  they  seemed,  as  it  were,  to  have  come 
nearer  home  to  him.  But  the  thought  glided 
away,  and  floated  back  again  with  a  song  that 
was  unknown  to  him  ;  he  felt  as  though  another 
had  made  it  for  him, — 

"  Fair  Venevill  bounded  on  lithesome  feet 

Her  lover  to  meet. 
He  sang  till  it  sounded  afar  away, 

'  Good-day,  good-day,' 
While  blithesome  birds  were  singing  on  every  blooming  spray 

*  On  Midsummer  Day 

There  is  dancing  and  play; 
But  now  I  know  not  whether  she  weaves  her  wreath  or  nay.' 

41  She  wove  him  a  wreath  of  corn-flowers  blue : 

'  Mine  eyes  so  true.' 
He  took  it,  but  soon  away  it  was  flung : 

'  Farewell ! '  he  sung ; 
And  still  with  merry  singing  across  the  fields  he  sprung. 

'On  Midsummer  Day,'  etc. 


90  AENE. 

"  She  wove  him  a  chain.     ' Oh,  keep  it  with  care! 

'T  is  made  of  my  hair.' 
She  yielded  him  then,  in  an  hour  of  bliss, 

Her  pure  first  kiss  ; 
But  he  blushed  as  deeply  as  she  the  while  her  lips  met  his. 

'  On  Midsummer  Day,'  etc. 

"  She  wove  him  a  wreath  with  a  lily-band : 

'  My  true  right  hand.' 
She  wove  him  another  with  roses  aglow: 

'  My  left  hand,  now.' 
He  took  them  gently  from  her,  but  blushes  dyed  his  brow. 

'  On  Midsummer  Day,'  etc. 

M  She  wove  him  a  wreath  of  all  flowers  round: 

'  All  I  have  found.' 
She  wept,  but  she  gathered  and  wove  on  still: 

'  Take  all  you  will.' 
Without  a  word  he  took  it,  and  fled  across  the  hill. 

'  On  Midsummer  Day,'  etc. 

"  She  wove  on,  bewildered  and  out  of  breath : 

'My  bridal  wreath.' 
She  wove  till  her  fingers  aweary  had  grown: 

'Now  put  it  on.' 
But  when  she  turned  to  see  him,  she  found  that  he  had  gone. 

'  On  Midsummer  Day,'  etc. 

"  She  wove  on  in  haste,  as  for  life  and  death, 

Her  bridal  wreath ; 
But  the  Midsummer  sun  no  longer  shone, 

And  the  flowers  were  gone ; 
But  though  she  had  no  flowers,  wild  fancy  still  wove  on. 

'On  Midsummer-Day 

There  is  dancing  and  play; 
But  now  I  know  not  whether  she  weaves  her  wreath  or  nay." 

i  Translated  by  Augusta  Plesner  and  S.  Kugeley-Powers. 


ARNE.  91 

It  was  his  own  intense  melancholy  that 
called  forth  the  first  image  of  love  that  glided 
so  gloomily  through  his  soul.  A  twofold  long- 
ing,—  to  have  some  one  to  love  and  to  become 
something  great,  —  blended  together  and  be- 
came one.  At  this  time  he  was  working  again 
at  the  song,  "  Over  the  lofty  mountains,"  alter- 
ing it,  and  all  the  while  singing  and  thinking 
quietly  to  himself,  "Surely  I  will  get 'over' 
some  day  ;  I  will  sing  until  I  gain  courage." 
He  did  not  forget  his  n\pther  in  these  his 
thoughts  of  roving ;  indeed,  he  took  comfort 
in  the  thought  that  as  soon  as  he  got  firm 
foothold  in  the  strange  land,  he  would  come 
back  after  her,  and  offer  her  conditions  which 
he  never  could  be  able  to  provide  for  her  at 
home.  But  in  the  midst  of  all  these  mighty 
yearnings  there  played  something  calm,  cheer- 
ing, refined,  that  darted  away  and  came  again, 
took  hold  and  fled,  and,  dreamer  that  he  had 
become,  he  was  more  in  the  power  of  these 
spontaneous  thoughts  than  he  himself  was 
aware. 

There  lived  in  the  parish  a  jovial  man  whose 
name  was  Ejnar  Aasen.  When  he  was  twenty 
years  old  he  had  broken  his  leg ;  since  then 
he  had  walked  with  a  cane  ;  but  wherever  he 
came  hobbling  along,  there  was  always  mirth 


02 


ARNE. 


afoot.  The  man  was  rich.  On  his  property 
there  was  a  lai'ge  nut-wood,  and  there  was  sure 
to  be  assembled,  on  one  of  the  brightest,  pleas- 
antest  days  in  autumn,  a  group  of  merry  girls 
gathering  nuts.  At  these  nutting-parties  he 
had  plenty  of  feasting  for  his  guests  all  clay, 
and  dancing  in  the  evening.  For  most  of 
these  girls  he  had  been  godfather  ;  indeed,  he 
was  the  godfather  of  half  the  parish;  all  the 
children  called  him  godfather,  and  from  them 
every  one  else,  both  old  and  young,  learned 
to  do  so. 

Godfather  and  Arne  were  well  acquainted, 
and  he  liked  the  young  man  because  of  the 
verses  he  made.  Now  godfather  asked  Arne  to 
come  to  the  nutting-party.  Arne  blushed  and 
declined  ;  he  was  not  used  to  being  with  girls, 
he  said. 

"  Then  you  must  get  used  to  it,"  replied 
godfather. 

Arne  could  not  sleep  at  night  because  of 
this  ;  fear  and  yearning  were  at  war  within 
him  ;  but  whatever  the  result  might  be,  he 
went  along,  and  was  about  the  only  youth 
among  all  these  girls.  He  could  not  deny  that 
he  felt  disappointed  ;  they  were  neither  those 
he  had  sung  about,  nor  those  he  had  feared 
to  meet.     There  was  an  excitement  and  mer- 


ARNE.  93 

riment,  the  like  of  which  he  had  never  known 
before,  and  the  first  thing  that  struck  him  was 
that  they  could  laugh  over  nothing  in  the 
world  ;  and  if  three  laughed,  why,  then,  five 
laughed,  simply  because  those  three  laughed. 
They  all  acted  as  though  they  were  members 
of  the  same  household  ;  and  yet  many  of  them 
had  not  met  before  that  day.  If  they  caught, 
the  bough  they  were  jumping  after,  they 
laughed  at  that,  and  if  they  did  not  catch  it, 
they  laughed  at  that,  too.  The}'  fought  for 
the  hook  to  draw  it  down  with  ;  those  who 
got  it  laughed,  and  those  who  did  not  get  it, 
laughed  also.  Godfather  hobbled  after  them 
with  his  cane,  and  offered  all  the  hindrance 
in  his  power.  Those  whom  he  caught  laughed 
because  he  caught  them,  and  those  whom  he 
did  not  catch  laughed  because  he  did  not  catch 
them.  But  they  all  laughed  at  Arne  for  being 
sober,  and  when  he  tried  to  laugh,  they  laughed, 
because  he  was  laughing  at  last. 

They  seated  themselves  finally  on  a  large  hill, 
godfather  in  the  centre,  and  all  the  girls  around 
him.  The  hill  commanded  a  fine  outlook  ;  the 
sun  scorched  ;  but  the  girls  heeded  it  not,  they 
sat,  casting  nut-husks  and  shells  at  one  another, 
giving  the  kernels  to  godfather.  He  tried  to 
quiet  them    at  last,   striking  at  them  with  his 


94  ARNE. 

cane,  as  far  as  he  could  reach  ;  for  now  he 
wanted  them  to  tell  stories,  above  all,  some- 
thing amusing.  But  to  get  them  started  seemed 
more  difficult  than  to  stop  a  carriage  on  a  hill- 
side. Godfather  began  himself.  There  were 
many  who  did  not  want  to  listen  ;  for  they 
knew  already  everything  he  had  to  tell ;  but 
they  all  ended  by  listening  attentively.  Be- 
fore they  knew  what  they  were  about,  they  sat 
in  the  centre,  and  each  took  her  turn  in  fol- 
lowing his  example  as  best  she  could.  Now 
Arne  was  much  astonished  to  find  that  just 
in  proportion  to  the  noise  the  girls  had  made 
before  was  the  gravity  of  the  stories  they  now 
told.     Love  was  the  chief  theme  of  these. 

"  But  you,  Aasa,  have  a  good  one  ;  I  re- 
member that  from  last  year,"  said  godfather, 
turning  to  a  plump  girl  with  a  round,  pleasant 
face,  who  sat  braiding  the  hair  of  a  younger 
sister,  whose  head  was  in  her  lap. 

"  Several  that  are  here  may  know  that,"  said 
she. 

"  Well,  give  it  to  us  anyway,"  they  begged. 

"I  will  not  have  to  be  urged  long,"  .said 
she,  and,  still  braiding,  she  told  and  sang,  as 
follows :  — 

"  There  was  a  grown-up  youth  who  tended 
cattle,  and  he  was  in  the  habit  of  driving  his 


AENE.  95 

herds  upward,  along  the  banks  of  a  broad 
stream.  High  up  on  his  way,  there  was  a  crag 
which  hung  out  so  far  over  the  stream,  that 
when  he  stood  on  it  he  could  call  out  to  any 
one  on  the  other  side.  For  on  the  other  side 
of  the  stream  there  was  a  herd-girl  whom  he 
could  see  all  day  long,  but  he  could  not  come 
over  to  her. 

'  Now,  tell  me  thy  name,  thou  girl  that  art  sitting, 
Up  there  with  thy  sheep,  so  busily  knitting  ?  ' 

he  asked,  over  and  over  again,  for  many  days, 
until  at  last  one  day  there  came  the  answer, — 

1  My  name  floats  about  like  a  duck  in  wet  weather ;  — 
Come  over,  thou  boy  in  the  cap  of  brown  leather.' 

"  But  this  made  the  youth  no  wiser  than 
before,  and  he  thought  he  would  pay  no  further 
heed  to  the  girl.  This  was  not  so  easy,  though, 
for,  let  him  drive  the  cattle  where  he  would, 
he  was  always  drawn  back  to  the  crag.  Then 
the  youth  grew  alarmed,  and  called  over  :  — 

'  Well,  who  is  your  father,  and  where  are  you  biding? 
On  the  road  to  the  church  I  have  ne'er  seen  you  riding.' 

"  The  youth  more  than  half  believed  her,  in 
fact,  to  be  a  milder.1 

'  My  house  is  burned  down,  and  my  father  is  drowned, 
And  the  road  to  the  church-hill  I  never  have  found.' 

1  The  bidder  dwells  in  forests  and  mountains,  appears  like  a 
beautiful  woman,  and  usually  wears  a  blue  petticoat  and  a  white 
hood.  She  has  a  long  tail,  which  she  tries  to  conceal  when  she 
is  among  people.     Sin-  is  fond  of  cattle. 


96  ARNE. 

"  Now  tins  also  made  the  youth  no  wiser 
than  before.  By  day  he  lingered  on  the  crag, 
and  by  night  he  dreamed  that  she  was  dancing 
around  him,  and  gave  him  a  lash  with  a  great 
cow's-tail  each  time  he  tried  to  take  hold  of 
her.  Soon  he  could  not  sleep  at  all,  neither 
could  he  work,  and  the  poor  youth  was  in  a 
wretched  state.     Again  he  called  aloud,  — 

'If  thou  art  a  hulder,  then  pray  do  not  spell  me,  — 
If  thou  art  a  maiden,  then  hasten  to  tell  me? ' 

"But  there  came  no  answer,  and  then  he 
was  sure  that  this  was  a  hulder.  He  gave 
up  tending  cattle,  but  it  was  just  as  bad, 
for  wherever  he  went,  or  whatever  he  did,  he 
thought  of  the  fair  hulder  who  blew  on  the 
horn. 

"  Then  one  day,  as  he  stood  chopping  wood, 
there  came  a  girl  through  the  yard  who  actu- 
ally looked  like  the  hulder.  But  when  she 
came  nearer,  it  was  not  she.  He  thought 
much  about  this  ;  then  the  girl  came  back,  and 
in  the  distance  it  was  the  hulder,  and  he  ran 
directly  toward  her.  But  the  moment  he  came 
near  her  it  was  not  she. 

"  After  this,  let  the  youth  be  at  church,  at 
a  dance,  at  other  social  gatherings,  or  where 
he  would,  the  girl  was  there  too  ;  when  he 
was  far  from  her,  she  seemed  to  be  the  hulder ; 


ARNE.  97 

near  to  her,  she  seemed  to  be  another ;  he 
asked  her  then  whether  it  were  she  or  not ; 
but  she  laughed  at  him.  It  is  just  as  well  to 
spring  into  it  as  to  creep  into  it,  thought  the 
youth,  and  so  he  married  the  girl. 

"  No  sooner  was  this  done  than  the  youth 
ceased  to  like  the  girl.  Away  from  her,  he 
longed  for  her ;  but  when  with  her,  he  longed 
for  one  he  did  not  see  ;  therefore  he  was 
harsh  toward  his  wife  ;  she  bore  this  and  was 
silent. 

"  But  one  day,  when  he  was  searching  for 
the  horses,  he  found  his  way  to  the  crag,  and 
sitting  down,  he  called  out,  — 

'  Like  fairy  moonlight  to  me  thou  seemest, 
Like  midsummer  fires  from  afar  thou  gleamest.' 

"  He  thought  it  did  him  good  to  sit  there, 
and  he  fell  into  the  way  of  going  thither  when- 
ever anything  went  amiss  at  home.  The  wife 
wept  when  she  was  left  alone. 

"But  one  day,  while  the  youth  was  sitting 
on  the  crag,  the  hulder,  her  living  self,  ap- 
peared on  the  opposite  side,  and  blew  her  horn. 
He  eagerly  cried,  — 

'Ah,  dear,  art  thou  come!  all  around  thee  is  shining  1 
Ah,  blow  now  again  !  I  am  sitting  here  pining.' 

"  Then  she  answered,  — 

7 


98  ARNE. 

'  Away  from  thy  mind  the  dreams  I  am  blowing,  — 
The  rye  is  all  rotting  for  want  of  mowing.' 

"  But  the  youth  was  frightened,  and  went 
home  again.  Before  long,  though,  he  was  so 
tired  of  his  wife  that  he  felt  compelled  to  wan- 
der off  to  the  wood  and  take  his  seat  on  the 
crag.     Then  a  voice  saner,  — 

'  I  dreamed  thou  wast  here  ;  ho,  hasten  to  bind  me! 
No,  not  over  there,  but  behind  you  will  find  me.' l 

"  The  youth  started  up,  looked  about  him, 
and  espied  a  green  skirt  disappearing  through 
the  woods.  He  pursued.  Now  there  was  a 
chase  through  the  woods.  As  fleet  of  foot  as 
the  hulder  was,  no  mortal  could  be  ;  he  cast 
steel2  over  her  again  and  again  ;  she  ran  on  the 
same  as  before.  By  and  by  she  began  to  grow 
tired.  The  youth  knew  this  from  her  foot-fall, 
though  her  form  convinced  him  that  it  was  the 
hulder  herself,  and  none  other.  '  You  shall 
surely  be  mine  now,'  thought  the  youth,  and 
suddenly  flung  his  arms  about  her  with  such 
force  that  both  he  and  she  rolled  far  down  the 
hill  before  they  could  stop.  Then  the  hulder 
laughed  until  the  youth  thought  the  mountains 

1  Translated  by  Augusta  Plesner  and  S.  Rugeley-Powers. 

2  Shooting  or  flinging  steel  over  the  head  of  hulders,  trolls, 
etc..  makes  tin'  witchery  vanish.  Thus  also  a  piece  of  steel  laid 
in  the  cradle  prevents  hulders  from  exchanging  little  children  for 
th.;ir  own. 


ARNE.  99 

fairly  rang  ;  lie  took  her  on  his  knee,  and  she 
looked  so  fair,  just  as  he  had  once  thought  his 
wife  would  look. 

"  '  Oh,  clear,  who  are  you  that  are  so  fair  ?  ' 
asked  the  youth,  and  as  he  caressed  her,  he  felt 
that  her  cheeks  were  warm  and  glowing. 

"  '  Why,  good  gracious,  I  am  your  wife,'  said 
she." 

The  girls  laughed,  and  thought  the  youth 
was  very  foolish.  But  godfather  asked  Arne 
if  he  had  been  listening. 

"  Well,  now,  I  will  tell  you  something,"  said 
a  little  girl,  with  a  little  round  face,  and  such 
a  very  little  nose. 

"  There  was  a  little  youth  who  wanted  very 
much  to  woo  a  little  maiden  ;  they  were  both 
grown  up,  yet  were  both  very  small  indeed. 
But  the  youth  could  not  muster  up  courage 
enough  to  begin  his  wooing.  He  always  joined 
her  after  church,  but  they  did  not  then  get  be- 
yond the  weather  in  their  talk  ;  he  sought  her 
at  the  dances,  and  he  danced  her  almost  to 
death,  but  talk  with  her  he  could  not.  '  You 
must  learn  to  write,  and  then  you  will  not 
have  to,'  said  he  to  himself,  and  so  the  youth 
took  to  writing;  but  he  never  thought  he  could 
do  well  enough,  and  so  he  wrote  a  whole  year 
before  he  dared  think  of  a  letter.     Then  the 


100  ARNE. 

trouble  was  how  to  deliver  it  so  that  no  one 
should  see,  and  he  waited  until  once  they 
chanced  to  meet  alone  behind  the  church. 

" '  I  have  a  letter  for  you,'  said  the  youth. 

"  '  But  I  cannot  read  writing,'  answered  the 
maiden. 

"  And  the  youth  got  no  further. 

"  Then  he  took  service  at  her  father's  house, 
and  hung  round  her  the  whole  day  long.  Once 
he  came  very  near  speaking  to  her  ;  he  had 
already  opened  his  mouth,  when  there  flew 
into  it  a  large  fly.  '  If  only  no  one  comes  and 
takes  her  from  me,'  thought  the  youth.  But 
there  came  no  one  to  take  her  from  him,  be- 
cause she  was  so  small. 

"  Some  one  did  come  along,  though,  at  last, 
for  he  was  small  too.  The  youth  well  knew 
what  he  was  after,  and  when  he  and  the  girl 
went  up-stairs  together,  the  youth  made  his 
way  to  the  key-hole.  Now  he  who  was  within 
offered  himself.  '  Alas,  dunce  that  I  am,  not 
to  have  made  more  haste  !  '  thought  the  youth. 
He  who  was  inside  kissed  the  girl  right  on  the 
lips.  k  That  must  have  tasted  good,'  thought 
tli<'  youth.  But  he  who  was  inside  had  drawn 
the  girl  down  on  his  knee.  '  What  a  world 
we  live  in! 'said  the  youth,  and  wept.  This 
the  girl  heard,  and  went  to  tin   door. 


ARNE.  101 

"  '  What  do  you  want  of  me,  you  ugly  boy, 
that  you  never  give  me  any  peace  ?  ' 

"  '  I  ?  —  I  only  wanted  to  ask  you  if  I  might 
be  your  groomsman.' 

"  '  No ;  my  brothers  are  to  be  the  grooms- 
men,' answered  the  girl,  —  and  slammed  the 
door  in  his  face. 

"  And  the  youth  got  no  further." 

The  girls  laughed  a  great  deal  at  this  story, 
and  sent  a  shower  of  husks  flying  round  after  it. 

Godfather  now  wanted  Eli  Boen  to  tell 
something. 

What  should  it  be  ? 

Why,  she  might  tell  what  she  had  told  over 
on  the  hill,  when  he  was  with  them,  the  time 
she  gave  him  the  new  garters.  It  was  a  good 
while  before  Eli  was  ready,  for  she  laughed  so 
hard,  but  at  last  she  told  :  — 

"  A  girl  and  a  boy  were  walking  together  on 
the  same  road.  '  Why,  see  the  thrush  that  is 
following  us,'  said  the  girl.  '  It  is  I  whom  it  is 
following,'  said  the  boy.  'It  is  just  as  likely 
to  be  me,'  answered  the  girl.  '  That  we  can 
soon  see,'  remarked  the  boy;  '  now  you  take  the 
lower  road,  and  I  will  take  the  upper  one,  and 
we  will  meet  at  the  top  of  the  hill.'  They  did 
so.  '  Was  it  not  following  me  ?  '  asked  the  boy, 
when  they  met.  '    '  No,  it  was    following  me,' 


102  ARNE. 

answered  the  girl.  '  Then  there  must  be  two.' 
They  walked  together  again  a  little  way,  but 
then  there  was  only  one  thrush  ;  the  boy  thought 
it  flew  on  his  side  ;  but  the  girl  thought  it  flew 
on  hers.  '  The  deuce  !  I  '11  not  bother  my  head 
any  more  about  that  thrush,'  said  the  boy.  '  Nor 
I  either,'  replied  the  girl. 

"  But  no  sooner  had  they  said  this  than  the 
thrush  was  gone.  '  It  was  on  your  side,'  said 
the  boy.  '  No,  I  thank  you  ;  I  saw  plainly  it 
was  on  yours.  But  there !  There  it  comes 
again  ! '  called  out  the  girl.  '  Yes,  it  is  on  my 
side  !  '  cried  the  boy.  But  now,  the  girl  be- 
came angry.  '  May  all  the  plagues  take  me  if 
I  walk  with  you  any  longer  ! '  and  she  went  her 
own. way.  Then  the  thrush  left  the  boy,  and 
the  way  became  so  tedious  that  he  began  to 
call  out.  She  answered.  '  Is  the  thrush  with 
you  ?  '  shouted  the  boy.  '  No,  it  is  with  you.' 
'  Oh,  dear  !  You  must  come  here  again,  then 
perhaps  it  will  come  too.'  And  the  girl  came 
again;  they  took  each  other  by  the  hand  and 
talked  together.  'Kvit,  kvit,  kvit,  kvit ! '  was 
heard  on  the  girl's  side.  '  Kvit,  kvit,  kvit, 
kvit ! '  was  heard  on  the  boy's  side.  '  Kvit,  kvit, 
kvit,  kvit,  kvit,  kvit,  kvit,  kvit  !  '  was  heard  on 
both  sides,  and  when  they  came  to  look,  there 
were  a  thousand  million  thrushes  round  about 


ARNE. 


103 


them.  'Why,  bow  strange  ! '  said  the  girl,  and 
looked  up  at  the  boy.  '  Bless  you !  '  said  the 
boy,  and  caressed  the  girl." 

This  story  all  the  girls  thought  fine. 

Then  godfather  suggested  that  they  should 
tell  what  they  had  dreamed  the  night  before, 
and  he  would  decide  who  had  had  the  finest 
dream. 

What !  tell  their  dreams  ?  No,  indeed ! 
And  there  was  no  end  to  the  laughing  and  whis- 
pering. But  then  one  after  another  began  to 
remark  that  she  had  had  such  a  fine  dream  last 
night ;  others,  again,  that,  fine  as  the  ones  they 
had  had,  it  could  not  by  any  means  be.  And 
finally,  they  all  were  seized  with  a  desire  to  tell 
their  dreams.  But  it  must  not  be  out  loud,  it 
must  only  be  to  one,  and  that  must  by  no 
means  be  godfather.  Arne  was  sitting  quiet- 
ly on  the  hill,  and  so  he  was  the  one  to  whom 
they  dared  tell  their  dreams. 

Arne  took  a  seat  beneath  a  hazel,  and  then 
she  who  had  told  the  first  story  came  to  him. 
She  thought  a  long  time,  and  then  told  as  fol- 
lows :  — 

"  I  dreamed  I  stood  by  a  great  lake.  Then 
I  saw  some  one  go  on  the  water,  and  it  was 
one  whom  I  will  not  name.  He  climbed  up  in 
a  large    pond-lily,  and   sat   and    sang.     But  I 


104  ARNE. 

went  out  on  one  of  those  large  leaves  that  the 
pond-lily  has,  and  which  lie  and  float;  on  it 
I  wanted  to  row  over  to  him.  But  no  sooner 
had  I  stepped  on  the  leaf  than  it  began  to  sink 
with  me,  and  I  grew  much  alarmed  and  cried. 
Then  he  came  rowing  over  to  me  in  the  pond- 
lily,  lifted  me  up  to  where  he  sat,  and  we  rowed 
all  over  the  lake.    Was  not  that  a  nice  dream  ?  " 

The  little  maiden  who  had  told  the  little 
story  now  came. 

"  I  dreamed  I  had  caught  a  little  bird,  and 
I  was  so  happy  that  I  did  not  want  to  let  it  go 
until  I  got  home.  But  there  I  did  not  dare 
let  go  of  it,  lest  father  and  mother  should  tell 
me  I  must  let  it  out  again.  So  I  went  up  in 
the  garret  with  it,  but  there  the  cat  was  lurk- 
ing, and  so  I  could  not  let  go  of  it  there  either. 
Then  I  did  not  know  what  to  do,  so  I  took  it 
up  in  the  hay-loft ;  but,  good  gracious  !  there 
were  so  many  cracks  there  that  it  could  easily 
fly  away  !  Well,  then  I  went  out  in  the  yard 
again,  and  there  I  thought  .stood  one  whom  I 
will  not  name  He  was  playing  with  a  large, 
black  dog.  '  I  would  rather  play  with  that 
bird  of  yours,'  said  he,  and  came  close  up 
to  me.  But  I  thought  I  started  to  run,  and 
he  and  the  large  dog  after  me,  and  thus  I  ran 
all  round  the  yard  ;    but  then  mother  opened 


ARNE.  105 

the  front  door,  drew  me  quickly  in,  and  slammed 
the  door.  Outside,  the  boy  stood  laughing, 
with  his  face  against  the  window-pane.  '  See, 
here  is  the  bird !  '  said  he,  —  and,  just  think,  he 
really  had  the  bird  !  Was  not  that  a  funny 
dream  ?  " 

Then  she  came  who  had  told  about  all  the 
thrushes,  —  Eli  they  had  called  her.  It  was 
the  Eli  he  had  seen  that  evening  in  the  boat  and 
in  the  water.  She  was  the  same  and  yet  not 
the  same,  so  grown-up  and  pretty  she  looked  as 
she  sat  there,  with  her  delicately  cut  face  and 
slender  form.  She  laughed  immoderately,  and 
therefore  it  was  long  before  she  could  control 
herself  ;  but  then  she  told  as  follows  :  — 

"  I  had  been  feeling  so  glad  that  I  was  com- 
ing to  the  nutting-party  to-day  that  I  dreamed 
last  night  I  was  sitting  here  on  the  hill.  The 
sun  shone  brightly,  and  I  had  a  whole  lapful 
of  nuts.  But  then  there  came  a  little  squirrel, 
right  in  among  the  nuts,  and  it  sat  on  its  hind 
legs  in  my  lap  and  ate  them  all  up.  Was  not 
that  a  funny  dream  ?  " 

Yet  other  dreams  were  told  Arne,  and  then 
he  was  to  decide  which  was  the  finest.  He 
had  to  take  a  long  time  to  consider,  and  mean- 
while godfather  started  off  with  the  whole 
crowd  for  the  gard.  and   Arne  was  to  follow. 


106  ARNE. 

They  sprang  down  the  hill,  formed  in  a  row 
when  they  had  reached  the  plain,  and  sang  all 
the  way  to  the  house 

Arne  still  sat  there  listening  to  the  singing. 
The  sun  fell  directly  on  the  group,  it  shone 
on  their  white  sleeves  ;  soon  they  twined  their 
arms  about  each  other's  waists  ;  they  went  danc- 
ing across  the  meadow,  godfather  after  them 
with  his  cane,  because  they  were  treading  down 
his  grass.  Arne  thought  no  more  about  the 
dreams.  Soon  he  even  left  off  watching  the 
girls;  his  thoughts  wandered  far  beyond  the 
valley,  as  did  the  fine  sunbeams,  and  he  sat 
alone  there  on  the  hill  and  spun.  Before  he 
was  aware  of  it,  he  was  entangled  in  a  close  web 
of  melancholy ;  he  yearned  to  break  away,  and 
never  in  the  world  before  so  ardently  as  now. 
He  faithfully  promised  himself  that  when  he 
got  home  he  would  talk  with  his  mother,  come 
of  it  what  would. 

His  thoughts  grew  stronger,  and  drifted  into 
the  song,  — 

"  Over  the  lofty  mountains." 

Words  had  never  flowed  so  readily  as  now,  nor 
had  they  ever  blended  so  surely  into  verse,  — 
they  almost  seemed  like  girls  sitting  around  on 
a  hill.  He  had  a  scrap  of  paper  about  him, 
and  placing  it  on  his  knee,  he  wrote.     When 


ARNE.  107 

the  song  was  complete,  he  arose,  like  one  who 
was  released,  felt  that  he  could  not  see  people, 
and  took  the  forest  road  home,  although  he 
knew  that  the  night,  too,  would  be  needed  for 
this.  The  first  time  he  sat  down  to  rest  on  the 
way,  he  felt  for  the  song,  that  he  might  sing  it 
aloud  as  he  went  along,  and  let  it  be  borne  all 
over  the  parish  ;  but  he  found  he  had  left  it  in 
the  place  where  it  was  written. 

One  of  the  girls  went  up  the  hill  to  look  for 
him,  did  not  find  him,  but  found  his  song. 


CHAPTER  X. 

To  talk  with  the  mother  was  more  easily 
thought  than  done.  Arne  alluded  to  Kristian 
and  the  letter  that  never  came  ;  but  the  mother 
went  away  from  him,  and  for  whole  days  after 
he  thought  her  eyes  looked  red.  He  had  also 
another  indication  of  her  feelings,  and  that  was 
that  she  prepared  unusually  good  meals  for 
him. 

He  had  to  go  up  in  the  woods  to  fetch  an 
armful  of  fuel  one  day;  the  road  led  through 
the  forest,  and  just  where  he  was  to  do  his 
chopping  was  the  place  where  people  went  to 
pick  whortleberries  in  the  autumn.  He  had 
put  down  his  axe  in  order  to  take  off  his  jacket, 
and  was  just  about  beginning,  when  two  girls 
came  walking  along  with  berry  pails.  It  was 
his  wont  to  hide  himself  rather  than  meet  girls, 
and  so  he  did  now. 

"  O  dear,  O  dear !  What  a  lot  of  berries  ! 
Eli,  Eli !  " 

"  Yes,  dear,  I  see  them." 

"  Well,  then,  do  not  go  any  farther  ;  hero 
are  many  pailfuls  !  " 


ARNE. 


109 


"  I  thought  there  was  a  rustling  in  that  bush 
Dver  there  !  " 

"  Oh, you  must  be  mad!  "  and  the  girls  rushed 
at  each  other,  and  put  their  arms  about  each 
other's  waists.  They  stood  for  a  long  while  so 
still,  that  they  scarcely  breathed. 

"  It  is  surely  nothing  ;  let  us  go  on  pick- 
ing  !  " 

"  Yes,  I  really  think  we  will." 

And  so  they  began  to  gather  berries. 

"  It  was  very  kind  of  you,  Eli,  to  come  over 
to  the  parsonage  to-day.  Have  you  anything 
to  tell  me?" 

"  I  have  been  at  godfather's." 

"  Yes,  you  told  me  that ;  but  have  you  noth- 
ing about  him,  —  you  know  who  ?  " 

«  Oh,  yes  !  " 

"  Oh,  oh !  Eli,  is  that  so  ?  Make  haste  ;  tell 
me!" 

"  He  has  been  there  again  !  " 

"  Oh,  nonsense  !  " 

"  Yes,  indeed  ;  both  father  and  mother  pre- 
tended they  did  not  see  it,  but  I  went  up  in  the 
garret  and  hid." 

"  More,  more  !     Did  he  follow  you  there  ?  " 

"  I  think  father  told  him  where  I  was ;  he  is 
always  so  provoking." 

"  And  so  he  came  ?  Sit  down,  sit  down  here 
beside  me.     Well,  so  he  came  ?  " 


110  ARNE. 

"  Yes  ;  but  he  did  not  say  much,  for  he  was 
bo  bashful." 

"  Every  word  !  Do  you  hear  ?  every  word  !  " 

"  '  Are  you  afraid  of  me  ?  '  said  he.  '  Why 
should  I  be  afraid  ?  '  said  I.  '  You  know  what 
it  is  I  want  of  you,'  said  he,  and  sat  down  on 
the  chest  beside  me." 

"Beside  you  ! " 

"  And  then  he  put  his  arm  round  my  waist." 

"  His  arm  round  your  waist  ?  Are  you 
wild?" 

"  I  wanted  to  get  away  from  him,  but  he 
would  not  let  me  go.  '  Dear  Eli,'  said  he,"  — 
she  laughed,  and  the  other  girl  laughed  too. 

"Well?  well?" 

"'  Will  you  be  my  wife?'" 

"  Ha,  ha,  ha  !  " 

"Ha,  ha,  ha!" 

And  then  both  —  "  Ha,  ha,  ha,  ha,  ha,  ha  !  " 

Finally,  the  laughter,  too,  had  to  come  to  an 
end,  and  then  a  long  silence  ensued.  After  a 
while,  the  first  one  asked,  but  softly,  "  Say,  — 
was  it  not  too  bad  that  he  put  his  arm  round 
your  waist  ?  " 

Either  the  other  one  made  no  reply  to  this, 
or  else  she  spoke  in  such  a  low  tone  that  it 
could  not  be  heard  ;  perhaps,  too,  she  answered 
only  with  a  smile.  Presently  the  first  one 
asked :  — 


ARNE.  Ill 

"  Have  neither  your  father  nor  your  mother 
Baid  anything  since  ?" 

"  Father  came  up  and  looked  at  me,  but  I 
kept  hiding  ;  for  he  laughed  every  time  he  saw 
me." 

"  But  your  mother  ?  " 

"  Why,  she  said  nothing ;  but  she  was  less 
harsh  than  usual." 

"  Well,  you  certainly  refused  him  ?  " 

"  Of  course." 

Then  there  was  a  long  silence  again. 

"Eli!" 

"Well?" 

"  Do  you  think  any  one  will  ever  come  that 
way  to  me  ?  " 

"  Yes,  to  be  sure." 

»  How  you  talk  !  O  —  h  !  say,  Eli  ?  What 
if  he  should  put  his  arm  round  my  waist  ?  " 
She  covered  her  face. 

There  was  much  laughter,  afterwards  whis- 
pering and  tittering. 

The  girls  soon  went  away.  They  had  neither 
seen  Arne,  nor  the  axe  and  the  jacket,  and  he 
was  glad. 

Some  days  later  he  put  Upland  Knut  in  the 
houseman's  place  under  Kampen. 

"  You  shall  no  longer  be  lonely,"  said  Arne. 

Arne  himself  took  to  steadv  work.     He  had 


112  ARNE. 

early  learned  to  cut  with  the  hand-saw,  for  he 
had  himself  added  much  to  the  house  at  home. 
Now  he  wanted  to  work  at  his  trade,  for  he 
knew  it  was  well  to  have  some  definite  occupa- 
tion ;  it  was  also  good  for  him  to  get  out  among 
people  ;  and  so  changed  had  he  gradually  be- 
come, that  he  longed  for  this  whenever  he  had 
kept  to  himself  for  a  while.  Thus  it  came  to 
pass  that  he  was  at  the  parsonage  for  a  time 
that  winter  doing  carpentering,  and  the  two 
girls  were  often  together  there.  Arne  won- 
dered, when  he  saw  them,  who  it  could  be  that 
was  now  courting  Eli  Boen. 

It  so  happened  one  day,  when  they  went  out 
for  a  ride,  that  Arne  had  to  drive  for  the  young 
lady  of  the  parsonage  and  Eli ;  he  had  good 
ears,  yet  could  not  hear  what  they  were  talking 
about ;  sometimes  Matkilde  spoke  to  him,  at 
which  Eli  laughed  and  hid  her  face.  Once 
Mathilde  asked  if  it  was  true  he  could  make 
verses.  "  No !  "  he  said  promptly :  then  they 
both  laughed,  chattered,  and  laughed.  This 
made  him  indignant,  and  he  pretended  not  to 
see  them. 

Once  he  was  sitting  in  the  servants'  hall, 
when  there  was  dancing  there.  Mathilde  and 
Eli  both  came  in  to  look  on.  They  were  dis- 
puting about  something  in   the  corner  where 


ARNE.  113 

they  stood.  Eli  would  not,  but  Mathilde  would, 
and  she  won.  Then  they  both  crossed  the  floor 
to  him,  courtesied,  and  asked  whether  he  could 
dance.  He  answered  "  No,"  and  then  they 
both  turned,  laughed,  and  ran  away.  "  They 
keep  up  a  perpetual  laughter,"  thought  Arne, 
and  became  sober.  But  the  priest  had  a  little 
adopted  son,  about  ten  or  twelve  years  old, 
of  whom  Arne  thought  a  good  deal;  from  this 
boy  Arne  learned  to  dance  when  no  one  else 
was  present. 

Eli  had  a  little  brother  about  the  same  age 
as  the  priest's  adopted  son.  These  two  were 
playmates,  and  Arne  made  sleds,  skees,1  and 
snares  for  them  ;  and  he  often  talked  with  them 
about  their  sisters,  especially  about  Eli.  One 
day  Eli's  brother  brought  word  that  Arne 
should  not  be  so  careless  with  his  hair. 

"  Who  said  so  ?  " 

"  Eli  said  so  ;  but  I  was  not  to  tell  that  she 
said  so." 

Some  days  after,  Arne  sent  a  message  to  Eli 
that  she  should  laugh  a  little  less.  The  boy 
came  back  with  the  reply  that  Arne  should 
laugh  a  little  more. 

Once  the  boy  asked  for  something  he  had 
written.     Arne  let  him  have  it,  and  thought 

1  A  kind  of  long  snow-shoe. 


114  ARNE. 

no  more  of  it.     After  a  while  the  boy  thought 
he  would   please  Arne   with    the  tidings  that 
both  the  girls  liked  his  writing  very  much. 
"  Why,  have  they  seen  it  ?  " 
"  Yes,  it  was  for  them  I  wanted  it." 
Arne  asked  the  boys  to  bring  him  something 
their  sisters  had  written  ;  they  did   so.    Arne 
corrected  the  mistakes  with  a  carpenter's  pen- 
cil.   He  asked  the  boys  to  place  the  paper  where 
it  could  easily  be  found.     Afterwards  he  found 
it  again  in  his  jacket  pocket,  but  at  the  bot- 
tom was  written,   "  Corrected  by  a  conceited 
fellow  !  " 

The  next  day  Arne  finished  his  work  at  the 
parsonage,  and  set  out  for  home.  So  gentle  as 
he  was  this  winter,  his  mother  had  never  seen 
him  since  those  sorrowful  days  after  his  father's 
death.  He  read  the  sermon  for  her,  went  with 
her  to  church,  and  was  very  kind  to  her.  But 
she  well  knew  it  was  all  to  get  her  consent  to 
journey  away  from  her  when  spring  came. 
Then  one  day  he  had  a  message  from  Boen  to 
know  if  he  would  come  there  and  do  some  car- 
pentering. 

Arne  was  quite  startled,  and  answered  "Yes," 
as  though  he  scarcely  knew  what  he  was  say- 
ing. No  sooner  had  the  messenger  gone  than 
the  mother  said,  — 


STATE  NORMAL  SI 
Los  Ant. 


ARNE.  115 

"  You  may  well  be  astonished  !  From  Bb'en?" 

"  Is  that  so  strange  ?  "  asked  Arne,  but  did 
not  look  at  her  as  he  spoke. 

"  From  Boen  !  "  cried  the  mother,  once  more. 

"  Well,  why  not  as  well  from  there  as  from 
another  gard  ?  "     Arne  now  looked  up  a  little. 

"  From  Boen  and  Birgit  Boen  !  Baard,  who 
gave  your  father  the  blow  that  was  his  ruin, 
and  that  for  Birgit  Boen's  sake !  " 

"What  do  you  say?"  now  cried  the  youth. 
"  Was  that  Baard  Boen  ?  " 

Son  and  mother  stood  and  looked  at  each 
other.  Between  the  two  a  whole  life  was  un- 
folded, and  this  was  a  moment  wherein  they 
could  see  the  black  thread  which  all  along  had 
been  woven  through  it.  They  fell  later  to  talk- 
ing about  the  father's  proud  days,  when  old  Eli 
Boen  herself  had  courted  bim  for  her  daughter 
Birgit,  and  got  a  refusal.  They  went  through 
his  whole  life  just  as  far  as  where  he  was 
knocked  down,  and  both  found  out  that  Baard's 
fault  had  been  the  least.  Nevertheless,  it  was 
he  who  had  given  the  father  that  fatal  blow,  — 
he  it  was. 

"Am  I  not  yet  done  with  father?"  then 
thought  Arne,  and  decided  at  the  same  mo- 
ment to  go. 

When  Arne  came  walking,  with  the  hand- 


116  ARNE. 

saw  on  his  shoulder,  over  the  ice  and  up  toward 
Boen,  it  seemed  to  him  a  pretty  gard.  The 
house  always  looked  as  though  it  were  newly 
painted  ;  he  was  a  little  chilled,  and  that  was 
perhaps  why  it  seemed  so  cozy  to  him.  He  did 
not  go  directly  in,  but  went  beyond  toward  the 
stable,  where  a  flock  of  shaggy  goats  were  stand- 
ing in  the  snow,  gnawing  at  the  bark  of  some 
fir  branches.  A  shepherd  dog  walked  to  and 
fro  on  the  barn-bridge,  and  barked  as  though 
the  devil  himself  was  coming  to  the  gard ;  but 
the  moment  Arne  stood  still,  he  wagged  his  tail 
and  let  him  pat  him.  The  kitchen  door  on  the 
farther  side  of  the  house  was  often  opened,  and 
Arne  looked  down  there  each  time ;  but  it  was 
either  the  dairy-maid,  with  tubs  and  pails,  or 
the  cook,  who  was  throwing  something  out  to 
the  goats.  Inside  the  barn  they  were  thresh- 
ing with  frequent  strokes,  and  to  the  left,  in 
front  of  the  wood-shed,  stood  a  boy  chopping 
wood ;  behind  him  there  were  many  layers  of 
wood  piled  up. 

Arne  put  down  his  saw  and  went  into  the 
kitchen  ;  there  white  sand  was  spread  on  the 
floor,  and  finely  cut  juniper  leaves  strewed  over 
it;  on  the  walls  glittered  copper  kettles,  and 
crockery  stood  in  rows.  They  were  cooking 
dinner.    Arne  asked  to  speak  with  Baard.    "  Go 


ARNE.  117 

into  the  sitting-room,"  some  one  said,  pointing 
to  the  door.  He  went ;  there  was  no  latch  to 
the  door,  but  a  brass  handle  ;  it  was  cheerful 
in  there,  and  brightly  painted,  the  ceiling  was 
decorated  with  many  roses,  the  cupboards  were 
red,  with  the  owner's  name  in  black,  the  bed- 
stead was  also  red,  but  bordered  with  blue 
stripes.  By  the  stove  sat  a  broad-shouldered 
man,  with  a  mild  face,  and  long,  yellow  hair  ; 
he  was  putting  hoops  about  some  pails ;  by  the 
long  table  sat  a  tall,  slender  woman,  with  a  high 
linen  cap  on  her  head,  and  dressed  in  tight-fit- 
ting clothes;  she  was  sorting  corn  into  two 
heaps.  Besides  these  there  were  no  others  in 
the  room. 

"  Good  day,  and  bless  the  work !  "  said  Arne, 
drawing  off  his  hat.  Both  looked  up  ;  the  man 
smiled,  and  asked  who  it  was. 

"  It  is  he  who  is  to  do  carpentering." 

The  man  smiled  more,  and  said,  as  he  nodded 
his  head  and  began  his  work  again,  — 

"  Well,  then,  it  is  Arne  Kampen  !  " 

"  Arne  Kampen  ?  "  cried  the  wife,  and  stared 
fixedly  before  her. 

The  man  looked  up  hastily,  and  smiled  again. 
"  The  son  of  tailor  Nils,"  he  said,  and  went  on 
once  more  with  his  work. 

After  a  while,  the  wife  got  up,  crossed  the 


118  ARNE. 

floor  to  the  shelf,  turned,  went  to  the  cupboard, 
turned  again,  and  as  she  at  last  was  rummaging 
in  a  table  drawer,  she  asked,  without  looking 
up, — 

"  Is  lie  to  work  here  V 

"  Yes,  that  he  is,"  said  the  man,  also  without 
looking  up.  "  It  seems  no  one  has  asked  you  to 
sit  down,"  he  observed,  addressing  himself  to 
Arne. 

The  latter  took  a  seat;  the  wife  left  the 
room,  the  man  continued  to  work;  and  so 
Arne  asked  if  he  too  should  begin. 

"  Let  us  first  have  dinner." 

The  wife  did  not  come  in  again  ;  but  the  next 
time  the  kitchen-door  opened  it  was  Eli  who 
came.  She  appeared  at  first  not  to  notice  Arne ; 
when  he  rose  to  go  to  her,  she  stood  still,  and 
half  turned  to  give  him  her  hand,  but  she  did  not 
look  at  him.  They  exchanged  a  few  words; 
the  father  worked  on.  Eli  had  her  hair  braided, 
wore  a  tight-sleeved  dress,  was  slender  and 
straight,  had  round  wrists  and  small  hands. 
She  laid  the  table  ;  the  working-people  dined 
in  the  next  room,  but  Arne  with  the  family  in 
this  one ;  it  so  happened  that  they  had  their 
meals  separately  to-day;  usually  they  all  ate  at 
the  same  table  in  the  large,  light  kitchen. 

"  Is  not  mother  coming  ?  "  asked  the  man. 


ARNE.  119 

"  No,  she  is  up-stairs  weighing  wool." 

"  Have  you  asked  her  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  but  she  says  she  does  not  want  any- 
thing." 

There  was  silence  for  a  while. 

"  But  it  is  cold  up-stairs." 

"  She  did  not  want  ine  to  make  a  fire." 

After  dinner  Arne  began  work;  in  the  even- 
ing lie  was  again  with  the  family  in  the  sitting- 
room.  Then  the  wife,  too,  was  there.  The 
women  were  sewing.  The  husband  was  busy 
with  some  trifles,  and  Arne  helped  him;  there 
was  a  prolonged  silence,  for  Eli,  who  usually  led 
in  conversation,  was  also  silent.  Arne  thought 
with  dismay  that  it  probably  was  often  thus  at 
his  own  home ;  but  he  realized  it  now  for  the 
first  time.  Eli  drew  a  long  breath  at  last,  as 
though  she  had  restrained  herself  long  enough, 
and  then  she  fell  to  laughing.  Then  the  father 
also  laughed,  and  Arne,  too,  thought  it  was 
laughable,  and  joined  in.  From  this  time  forth 
they  talked  of  various  things ;  but  it  ended  in 
Arne  and  Eli  doing  most  of  the  talking,  the  fa- 
ther putting  in  an  occasional  word.  But  once, 
when  Arne  had  been  speaking  for  some  time 
and  happened  to  look  up,  he  met  the  eyes  of  the 
mother,  Birgit;  she  had  dropped  her  sewing, 
and   sat    staring    fixedly  at    him.      Now    she 


120  ARNE. 

picked  up  her  work  again,  but  at  the  first  word 
he  spoke  she  raised  her  eyes. 

Bed-time  came,  and  each  one  went  his  way. 
Arne  thought  he  would  notice  the  dream  he 
had  the  first  night  in  a  new  place  ;  but  there 
seemed  to  be  no  sense  in  it.  The  whole  day 
long  he  had  talked  little  or  none  with  the  mas- 
ter of  the  gard,  but  at  night  it  was  of  him  he 
dreamed.  The  last  thing  was  that  Baard  sat 
playing  cards  with  tailor  Nils.  The  latter  was 
very  angry  and  pale  in  the  face ;  but  Baard 
smiled  and  won  the  game. 

Arne  remained  several  days,  during  which 
time  there  was  scarcely  any  talking,  but  a  great 
deal  of  work.  Not  only  those  in  the  family 
room  were  silent,  but  the  servants,  the  tenants, 
even  the  women.  There  was  an  old  dog  on  the 
gard  that  barked  every  time  strangers  came ; 
but  the  gard  people  never  heard  the  dog  without 
saying  "hush  !  "  and  then  he  went  growling  off 
and  laid  down  again.  At  home  at  Kampen 
there  was  a  large  weather-vane  on  the  house, 
which  turned  with  the  wind ;  there  was  a  still 
larger  vane  here,  to  which  Arne's  attention  was 
attracted  because  it  did  not  turn.  When  there 
was  a  strong  current  of  wind,  the  vane  strug- 
gled to  get  loose,  and  Arne  looked  at  it  until  he 
felt  compelled  to  go  up  on  the  roof  and  set  the 


ARNE.  121 

vane  free.  It  was  not  frozen  fast,  as  he  had 
supposed,  but  a  pin  was  stuck  through  it  that 
it  might  be  kept  still.  This  Arne  took  out  and 
threw  down ;  the  pin  struck  Baard,  who  came 
walking  along.     He  glanced  up. 

"  What  are  you  doing  there  ?  " 

"  I  am  letting  loose  the  vane." 

"  Do   not   do  so ;   it   makes  such  a  wailing 
noise  when  it  is  in  motion." 

Arne  sat  astride  the  gable. 

"  That  is  better  than  always  being  quiet." 

Baard  looked  up  at  Arne,  and  Arne  looked 
down  on  Baard  ;  then  Baard  smiled. 

"  He  who   has  to   howl  when  he  talks  had 
much  better  keep  silent,  I  am  sure."   . 

Now  it  often  happens  that  words  haunt  us 
long  after  they  were  uttered,  especially  when 
they  were  the  last  ones  heard.  So  these  words 
haunted  Arne  when  he  crept  down  in  the  cold 
from  the  roof,  and  were  still  with  him  in  the 
evening  when  he  entered  the  family  room.  Eli 
was  standing,  in  the  twilight,  by  a  window,  gaz- 
ing out  over  the  ice  which  lay  glittering  be- 
neath the  moon's  beams.  Arne  went  to  the 
other  window  and  looked  out  as  she  was  do 
ing.  Within  all  was  cozy  and  quiet,  without  it 
was  cold ;  a  sharp  wind  swept  across  the  val- 
ley, so  shaking  the  trees  that  the  shadows  they 


122  ARNE. 

cast  in  the  moonlight  did  not  lie  still,  but  went 
groping  about  in  the  snow.  From  the  parsonage 
there  glimmered  a  light,  opening  out  and  clos- 
ing in,  assuming  many  shapes  and  colors,  as 
light  is  apt  to  do  when  one  gazes  at  it  too 
long.  The  mountain  loomed  up  beyond,  dark 
and  gloomy,  with  romance  in  its  depths  and 
moonshine  on  its  upper  banks  of  snow.  The 
sky  was  aglow  with  stars,  and  a  little  flickering 
northern  light  appeared  in  one  quarter  of  the 
horizon,  but  did  not  spread.  A  short  distance 
from  the  window,  clown  toward  the  lake,  there 
•were  some  trees  whose  shadows  kept  prowling 
from  one  to  the  other,  but  the  great  ash  stood 
alone,  writing  on  the  snow. 

The  night  was  very  still,  —  only  now  and 
then  something  shrieked  and  howled  with  a 
long,  wailing  cry. 

"  What  is  that  ?  "  asked  Arne. 

"  It  is  the  weather- vane,"  said  Eli ;  and  after- 
wards she  continued  more  softly,  as  though  to 
herself :  "  It  must  have  been  let  loose." 

But  Arne  had  been  feeling  like  one  who 
wanted  to  speak  and  could  not.    Now  lie  said :  — 

"  Do  you  remember  the  story  about  the 
thrushes  that  sang  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

''  Why,  to  be  sure,  it  was  you  who  told  that 
one  !     It  was  a  pretty  story." 


ARNE.  123 

She  said,  in  so  gentle  a  voice  that  it  seemed 
as  though  it  were  the  first  time  he  heard  it,  — 

"  I  often  think  there  is  something  that  sings 
when  it  is  quite  still." 

"  That  is  the  good  within  ourselves." 

She  looked  at  hi  in  as  though  thei'e  were 
something  too  much  in  that  answer ;  they 
were  both  quiet  afterward.  Then  she  asked, 
as  she  traced  figures  with  one  finger  on  the 
window-pane,  — 

"  Have  you  made  any  songs  lately  ?  " 

He  blushed  ;  but  this  she  did  not  see.  There- 
fore she  asked  again,  — 

"  How  do  you  manage  when  you  make 
songs  ?  " 

"  Would  you  really  like  to  know  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes." 

"  I  hoard  up  the  thoughts  that  others  are 
in  the  habit  of  letting  go,"  he  answered  eva- 
sively. 

She  was  long  silent,  for  she  had  doubtless 
been  making  an  attempt  at  a  song  or  two. 
What  if  she  had  had  those  thoughts  and  let 
them  go. 

"  That  is  strange,  said  she,  as  though  to 
herself,  and  fell  to  tracing  figures  on  the  pane 
again . 

"  I  made  a  song  after  I  had  seen  you  the  first 
time." 


124  ARNE. 

"  Where  was  that  ?  " 

"  Over  by  the  parsonage,  the  evening  you  left 
there.     I  saw  you  in  the  lake." 

She  laughed,  then  was  still  a  while. 

"  Let  me  hear  that  song." 

Arne  had  never  before  done  such  a  thing,  but 
now  he  sang  for  her  the  song,  — 

"  Fair  Venevill  bounded  on  lithesome  feet, 
Her  lover  to  meet,"  etc. 

Eli  stood  there  very  attentive ;  she  stood 
there  long  after  he  was  through.  At  last  she 
burst  out,  — 

"  Oh,  how  I  pity  her  !  " 

"  It  seems  as  though  I  had  not  made  it  my- 
self," said  Arne,  for  he  felt  ashamed  at  having 
produced  it.  Nor  did  he  understand  how  he 
had  come  to  do  so.  He  remained  standing  there 
as  if  looking  after  the  song. 

Then  she  said :  "  But  I  hope  it  will  not  be 
that  way  with  me  !  " 

"  No,  no,  no  !  I  was  only  thinking  of  my- 
self." 

"  Is  that  to  be  your  fate,  then  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  know  ;  but  I  felt  so  at  that  time 
—  indeed,  I  do  not  understand  it  now,  but  I 
ance  had  such  a  heavy  heart." 

"  That  was  strange."  She  began  to  write  on 
the  window-pane  again. 


ARNE.  125 

The  next  day,  when  Arne  came  in  to  dinner 
he  went  over  to  the  window.  Outside  it  was 
gray  and  foggy,  within  warm  and  pleasant ;  but 
on  the  window-pane  a  finger  had  traced  "Arne, 
Arne,  Arne  !  "  and  over  again  "  Arne."  It 
was  the  window  where  Eli  had  stood  the  pre- 
ceding evening. 

But  Eli  did  not  come  down-stairs  that  day  ; 
she  was  feeling  ill.  She  had  not  been  well  at 
all  of  late ;  she  had  said  so  herself,  and  it  was 
plainly  to  be  seen. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

A  DAY  later  Arne  came  in  and  announced 
that  he  had  just  heard  on  the  gavd  that  the 
priest's  daughter  Mathilde  had  that  very  mo- 
ment started  for  the  town,  as  she  thought,  for 
a  few  days,  but,  as  hud  been  decided,  to  stay 
there  for  a  year  or  two.  Eli  had  heard  noth- 
ing of  this  before,  and  fell  fainting. 

It  was  the  first  time  Arne  had  seen  any  one 
faint,  and  he  was  much  alarmed ;  he  ran  for 
the  maid-servants,  they  went  for  the  parents, 
who  started  at  once;  there  was  confusion  all 
over  the  gard,  even  the  shepherd-dog  barked 
on  the  barn-bridge.  When  Arne  came  in 
again,  later,  the  mother  was  on  her  knees  by 
the  bedside,  the  father  stood  holding  the  sick 
girl's  head.  The  maid-servants  were  running, 
one  for  water,  another  for  medicine,  which  was 
kept  in  a  cupboard,  a  third  was  unfastening 
Eli's  jacket  at  the  throat. 

"  The  Lord  help  and  bless  us  !  "  cried  the 
mother.  "  It  was  certainly  wrong  that  we 
said  nothing  to  her  ;   it  was  you,  Baard,  who 


ARNE.  127 

would  have  it  so.  The  Lord  help  and  bless 
us  ! " 

Baard  made  no  reply. 

"  I  said  we  had  better  tell  her ;  but  nothing 
i^  ever  done  as  I  wish.  The  Lord  help  and 
bless  us !  You  are  always  so  underhand  with 
her,  Baard  ;  you  do  not  understand  her  ;  you 
do  not  know  what  it  is  to  care  for  any  one." 

Baard  still  made  no  reply. 

"  She  is  not  like  others ;  they  can  bear  sor- 
row, but  it  completely  upsets  her,  poor  thing, 
she  is  so  slight.  And  especially  now  when  she 
is  not  well  at  all.  Wake  up  again,  my  dear 
child,  and  we  will  be  kind  to  you  !  Wake  up 
again,  Eli,  my  own  clear  child,  and  do  not  grieve 
us  so  !  " 

Then  Baard  said, — 

"  You  are  either  too  silent,  or  you  talk  too 
much  ;  "  and  he  looked  over  at  Arne,  as  though 
he  did  not  wish  him  to  hear  all  this,  but  to  go 
away.  As  the  maid-servants  remained  in  the 
room,  however,  Arne  thought  that  he  might 
stay,  too,  but  he  walked  to  the  window.  Now 
the  patient  rallied  so  far  that  she  could  look 
about  her  and  recognize  people  ;  but  at  the 
same  moment  her  memory  returned ;  she 
shrieked  "  Mathilde,"  burst  into  hysterical  weep- 
ing, and  sobbed  until  it  was  painful  to  be  in  the 


128  ARNE. 

room  with  her.  The  mother  tried  to  comfort 
her;  the  father  had  placed  himself  where  he 
might  be  seen  ;  but  the  sick  girl  waved  her 
hand  to  them.  "  Go  away  !  "  she  cried,  "  I  do 
not  love  you  !  " 

"  Good  gracious  !  You  do  not  love  your  par- 
ents? "  said  the  mother. 

"No  !  You  are  cruel  to  me,  and  take  from 
me  the  only  joy  I  have  !  " 

"  Eli,  Eli !  Do  not  speak  such  dreadful 
words !  "  begged  the  mother. 

"Yes,  mother,"  she  shrieked;  "now  I  must 
say  it !  Yes,  mother !  You  want  me  to  marry 
that  hateful  man,  and  I  will  not.  You  shut  me 
up  here,  where  I  am  never  happy,  except  when 
I  am  to  go  out !  You  take  Mathilde  from  me, 
the  only  person  I  love  and  long  for  in  the 
world  !  O  God,  what  will  become  of  me  when 
Mathilde  is  no  longer  here  —  especially  now 
that  I  have  so  much,  so  much  I  cannot  manage 
when  I  have  no  one  to  talk  with  ?  " 

"  But  you  really  have  so  seldom  been  with 
her  lately,"  said  Baard. 

"  What  did  that  matter  when  I  had  her  over 
at  the  window  yonder  !  "  answered  the  sick  girl, 
and  she  cried  in  such  a  child-like  way,  that  it 
seemed  to  Arne  as  though  he  had  never  before 
seen  anything  like  it. 


ARNE.  129 

"  But  you  could  not  see  her  there,"  said 
Baard. 

"  I  could  see  the  gard,"  answered  she ;  and 
the  mother  added,  hotly,  — 

"  You  do  not  understand  such  things  at  all." 

Then  Baard  said  no  more. 

"  Now  I  can  never  go  to  the  window  !  "  said 
Eli.  "  I  went  there  in  the  morning  when  I  got 
up;  in  the  evening  I  sat  there  in  the  moonlight: 
and  I  went  there  when  I  had  no  one  else  to  go 
to.     Mathilde,  Mathilde  !  " 

She  writhed  in  the  bed,  and  again  gave  way 
to  hysterical  weeping.  Baard  sat  down  on  a 
stool  near  by  and  watched  her. 

But  Eli  did  not  get  over  this  as  soon  as  her 
parents  may  have  expected.  Toward  evening 
they  first  saw  that  she  was  likely  to  have  a 
protracted  illness,  the  seeds  of  which  had  doubt- 
less been  gathering  for  some  time ;  and  Arne  was 
called  in  to  assist  in  carrying  her  up  to  her  own 
room.  She  was  unconscious,  and  lay  very  pale 
and  still ;  the  mother  sat  down  beside  her ;  the 
father  stood  at  the  foot  of  the  bed  and  looked 
on  ;  afterwards  he  went  down  to  his  work. 
Arne  did  the  same ;  but  that  night  when  he 
went  to  bed  he  prayed  for  her,  prayed  that  she, 
young  and  fair  as  she  was,  might  have  a  happy 

9 


1.80  ARNE. 

life,  and  that  no  one  might  shut  out  joy  from 
her. 

The  following  day  the  father  and  mother  sat 
talking  together  when  Arne  came  in;  the 
mother  had  been  shedding  tears.  Arne  asked 
how  things  were  going  ;  each  waited  for  the 
other  to  speak,  and  therefore  it  was  long  before 
he  got  a  reply  ;  but  finally  the  father  said,  "It 
looks  pretty  bad." 

Later,  Arne  heard  that  Eli  had  been  delir- 
ious the  whole  night ;  or,  as  the  father  said,  had 
been  raving.  Now  she  lay  violently  ill,  knew 
no  one,  would  not  take  any  food,  and  thepai'ents 
were  just  sitting  there,  deliberating  whether 
they  should  call  in  the  doctor.  When,  later, 
they  went  up-stairs  to  the  sick  girl,  and  Arne 
was  left  alone  again,  he  felt  as  though  life  and 
death  were  both  up  there,  but  he  sat  outside. 

In  a  few  days,  though,  she  was  better.  Once 
when  the  father  was  keeping  watch,  she  took 
a  fancy  to  have  Narrifas,  the  bird  which  Ma- 
thilde  had  given  her,  standing  beside  the  bed. 
Then  Baard  told  her  the  truth,  that  in  all  this 
confusion  the  bird  had  been  forgotten,  and  that 
it  was  dead.  The  mother  came  just  while  Baard 
was  telling  this,  and  she  burst  out  in  the 
door,  —  "  Good  gracious  me  !  how  heedless  you 
are,   Baard,  to   tell   such   things   to    that  sick 


ARNE.  131 

child  !  See,  now  she  is  fainting  away  again  ; 
Heaven  forgive  you  for  what  you  have  done!  " 

Every  time  the  patient  revived  she  screamed 
for  the  bird,  said  that  it  would  never  go  well 
with  Mathilde  since  Narrifas  was  dead,  wanted 
to  go  to  her,  and  fell  into  a  swoon  again.  Baard 
stood  there  and  looked  on  until  he  could  bear 
it  no  longer ;  then  he  wanted  to  help  wait  on 
her  too  ;  but  the  mother  pushed  him  away, 
saying  that  she  would  take  care  of  the  sick  girl 
alone.  Then  Baard  gazed  at  both  of  them  a 
long  while,  after  which  he  put  on  his  cap  with 
both  hands,  turned,  and  went  out. 

The  priest  and  his  wife  came  over  later  ;  for 
the  illness  had  taken  fresh  hold  on  Eli,  and  had 
become  so  bad  that  they  knew  not  whether  it 
was  tending  to  life  or  death. 

Both  the  priest  and  the  priest's  wife  rea- 
soned with  Baard,  and  urged  that  he  was  too 
harsh  with  Eli ;  they  had  heard  about  the  bird, 
and  the  priest  told  him  bluntly  that  such  con- 
duct was  rough  ;  he  would  take  the  child  home 
to  the  parsonage,  he  said,  as  soon  as  she  had 
improved  enough  to  be  moved.  The  priest's 
wife  finally  would  not  even  see  Baard ;  she 
wept  and  sat  with  the  sick  girl,  sent  for  the 
doctor,  took  his  orders  herself,  and  came  over 
several    times    each    day   to    carry    them    out. 


132  ARNE. 

Baard  went  wandering  about  from  place  to 
place  in  the  yard,  going  chiefly  where  he  could 
be  alone ;  he  would  often  stand  still  for  a  long 
time,  then  straighten  his  cap  with  both  hands, 
and  find  something  to  do. 

The  mother  did  not  speak  to  him  any  more  ; 
they  scarcely  looked  at  each  other.  Baard  went 
up  to  the  sick  giiTs  room  several  times  each 
day ;  he  took  off  his  shoes  at  the  bottom  of  the 
stairs,  laid  down  his  hat  outside  of  the  door, 
which  he  opened  cautiously.  The  moment  he 
came  in,  Birgit  would  turn  as  though  she  had 
not  seen  him,  and  then  sit  as  before,  with  her 
head  in  her  hand,  looking  straight  before  her 
and  at  the  sick  girl.  The  latter  lay  still  and 
pale,  unconscious  of  anything  about  her.  Baard 
would  stand  a  while  at  the  foot  of  the  bed,  look 
at  them  both,  and  say  nothing.  Once,  when  Eli 
moved  as  though  about  to  awaken,  he  stole 
away  directly  as  softly  as  he  had  come. 

Arne  often  thought  that  words  had  now  been 
exchanged  between  husband  and  wife  and  par- 
ents and  child,  which  had  been  long  brewing, 
and  which  would  not  soon  be  forgotten.  He 
longed  to  get  away,  although  he  would  have 
liked  first  to  know  how  Eli's  illness  would  end. 
But  this  he  could  learn  even  if  he  left,  he 
thought ;  he  went,  therefore,  to  Baard,  and  said 


ARNE.  133 

that  he  wished  to  go  home ;  the  work  for  which 
he  had  come  was  done.  Baard  sat  outside  on 
the  chopping-block  when  Arne  came  to  tell  him 
this.  He  sat  digging  in  the  snow  with  a  pin. 
Arne  knew  the  pin  ;  for  it  was  the  same  that 
had  fastened  the  weather  vane.  "Without  look- 
ing up  Baard  said,  — 

"  I  suppose  it  is  not  pleasant  to  be  here  now, 
but  I  feel  as  if  I  did  not  want  you  to  leave." 

Baard  said  no  more  ;  nor  did  Arne  speak. 
He  stood  a  while,  then  went  away  and  busied 
himself  with  some  work,  as  though  it  were  de- 
cided that  he  should  remain. 

Later,  when  Arne  was  called  in  to  dinner, 
Baard  still  sat  on  the  chopping-block.  Arne 
went  over  to  him  and  asked  how  Eli  was  get- 
ting on. 

"I  think  she  must  be  pretty  bad  to-day," 
said  Baard  ;  "  I  see  that  mother  is  crying." 

Arne  felt  as  though  some  one  had  bidden 
him  to  sit  down,  and  he  sat  down  directly  op- 
posite Baard  on  the  end  of  a  fallen  tree. 

"  I  have  been  thinking  of  your  father  these 
days,"  said  Baard,  so  unexpectedly,  that  Arne 
could  make  no  reply.  .  "  You  know,  I  dare  say, 
what  there  was  between  us  two  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  know." 

"  Ah,   well,   you   only  know  half,  as    might 


1C4  ARNE. 

have  been  expected,  and  naturally  lay  the  great- 
est blame  on  me." 

Arne  answered  presently  :  "  You  have  doubt- 
less settled  that  matter  with  your  God,  as  my 
father  has  surely  done." 

"Ah,  well,  that  may  be  as  one  takes  it,"  an- 
swered Baard.  "  When  I  found  this  pin  again, 
it  seemed  so  strange  to  me  that  you  should 
come  here  and  loosen  the  vane.  Just  as  well 
first  as  last,  thought  I."  He  had  taken  off  his 
cap  and  sat  looking  into  it. 

Arne  did  not  yet  understand  that  by  this 
Baard  meant  that  he  now  wanted  to  talk  with 
him  about  his  father.  Indeed,  he  still  did  not 
understand  it,  even  after  Baard  was  well  under 
way,  so  little  was  this  like  the  man.  But  what 
had  been  working  before  in  his  mind,  he  grad- 
ually comprehended  as  the  story  advanced,  and 
if  he  had  hitherto  had  respect  for  this  blunder- 
ing but  thoroughly  good  man,  it  was  not  les- 
sened now. 

"  I  might  have  been  about  fourteen  years 
old,"  said  Baard,  then  paused,  as  he  did  from 
time  to  time  throughout  his  whole  story,  said 
a  few  words  more,  and  paused  again  in  such  a 
manner  that  his  story  bore  the  strong  impress 
of  having  every  word  weighed.  "  I  might  have 
been  about  fourteen  years  old  when  I  became 


ARNE.  135 

acquainted  with  your  father,  who  was  of  the 
same  age.  He  was  very  wild,  and  could  not  bear 
to  have  any  one  above  him.  And  what  he  never 
could  forgive  me  was,  that  I  was  the  head  of 
the  class  when  we  were  confirmed,  and  he  was 
number  two.  He  often  offered  to  wrestle  with 
me,  but  nothing  ever  came  of  it ;  I  suppose  be- 
cause we  were  neither  of  us  sure  of  ourselves. 
But  it  is  strange  that  he  fought  every  day,  and 
no  misfortune  befell  him  ;  the  one  time  I  tried 
my  hand  it  turned  out  as  badly  as  could  be ; 
but,  to  be  sure,  I  had  waited  a  long  time  too. 

"  Nils  fluttered  about  all  the  girls  and  they 
about  him.  There  was  only  one  I  wanted,  but 
he  took  her  from  me  at  every  dance,  at  every 
wedding,  at  every  party ;  it  was  the  one  to 
whom  I  am  now  married.  ...  I  often  had  a 
desire,  as  I  sat  looking  on,  to  make  a  trial  of 
strength  with  him,  just  because  of  this  matter; 
but  I  was  afraid  I  might  lose,  and  I  knew  that 
if  I  did  so  I  should  lose  her  too.  When  the 
others  had  gone,  I  would  lift  the  weights  he 
had  lifted,  kick  the  beam  he  had  kicked,  but 
the  next  time  he  danced  away  from  me  with 
the  girl,  I  did  not  dare  tackle  him,  although  it 
chanced  once,  as  Nils  stood  joking  with  her 
right  before  my  face,  that  I  laid  hold  of  a  good 
sized  fellow  who  stood  by  and  tossed  him  against 


136  AKNE. 

the  beam,  as  though  for  sport.  Nils  grew  pale, 
too,  that  time. 

"If  he  had  only  been  kind  to  the  girl;  but 
he  was  false  to  her,  and  that  evening  after  even- 
ing. I  almost  think  she  cared  more  for  him 
each  time.  Then  it  was  that  the  last  thing 
happened.  I  thought  now  it  must  either  break 
or  bear.  Nor  did  the  Lord  want  him  to  go 
about  any  longer  ;  and  therefore  he  fell  a  little 
more  heavily  than  I  had  intended.  I  never  saw 
him  after  that." 

They  sat  for  a  long  time  silent.  Finally 
Baard  continued  :  — 

"  I  offered  myself  again.  She  answered 
neither  yes  nor  no ;  and  so  I  thought  she 
would  like  me  better  afterwards.  We  were 
married  ;  the  wedding  took  place  down  in  the 
valley,  at  the  house  of  her  father's  sister,  who 
left  her  property  to  her  ;  we  began  with  plenty, 
and  what  we  then  had  has  increased.  Our 
gards  lay  alongside  of  each  other,  and  they  have 
since  been  thrown  into  one,  as  had  been  my  idea 
from  boyhood  up.  But  many  other  things  did 
not  turn  out  as  I  had  planned." 

He  was  long  silent ;  Arne  thought,  for  a 
while,  he  was  weeping  ;  it  was  not  so.  But  he 
spoke  in  a  still  gentler  tone  than  usual  when  he 
began  again,  — 


ARNE.  137 

"At  first  she  was  quiet  and  very  sorrowful. 
I  had  nothing  to  say  for  her  comfort,  and  so  I 
was  silent.  Later,  she  fell  at  times  into  that 
commanding  way  that  you  have  perhaps  no- 
ticed in  her  ;  yefc  it  was  after  all  a  change,  and 
so  I  was  silent  then,  too.  But  a  truly  happy 
day  I  have  not  had  since  I  was  married,  and 
that  has  been  now  for  twenty  years." 

He  broke  the  pin  in  two ;  then  he  sat  a  while 
looking  at  the  pieces. 

"  When  Eli  grew  to  be  a  large  girl,  I  thought 
she  would  find  more  happiness  among  strangers 
than  here.  It  is  seldom  that  I  have  insisted  on 
anything  ;  it  usually  has  been  wrong,  too,  when 
I  have ;  and  so  it  was  with  this.  The  mother 
yearned  for  her  child,  although  only  the  lake 
parted  them  ;  and  at  last  I  found  out  that  Eli 
was  not  under  the  best  influences  over  at  the 
parsonage,  for  there  is  really  much  good-nat- 
ured nonsense  about  the  priest's  family;  but  I 
found  it  out  too  late.  Now  she  seems  to  care 
for  neither  father  nor  mother." 

He  had  taken  his  cap  off  again ;  now  his 
long  hair  fell  over  his  eyes  ;  he  stroked  it  aside, 
and  put  on  his  cap  with  both  hands,  as 
though  about  to  go ;  but  as  in  getting  up  he 
turned  toward  the  house,  he  stopped  and  added, 
with  a  glance  at  the  chamber  window,  — 


138  ARNE. 

"  I  thought  it  was  best  she  and  Mathilde 
should  not  bid  each  other  good-by;  but  that 
proved  to  be  wrong.  I  told  her  the  little  bird 
was  dead,  for  it  was  my  fault,  you  know,  and  it 
seemed  to  me  right  to  confess ;  but  that  was 
wrong  too.  And  so  it  is  with  everything.  I 
have  always  meant  to  do  the  best,  but  it  has 
turned  out  to  be  the  worst ;  and  now  it  has 
gone  so  far  that  they  speak  ill  of  me,  both  wife 
and  daughter,  and  I  am  alone  here." 

A  girl  now  called  out  to  them  that  dinner 
was  getting  cold.  Baard  got  up.  "  I  hear  the 
horses  neighing,"  said  he,  "  somebody  must 
have  forgotten  them  ; "  and  with  this  he  went 
over  to  the  stable  to  give  them  hay. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

Eli  was  very  weak  after  her  illness ;  the 
mother  sat  over  her  night  and  day,  and  was 
never  down-stairs  ;  the  father  made  his  usual 
visits  up  to  the  sick-room  in  his  stocking  feet, 
and  leaving  his  cap  outside  of  the  door.  Arne 
was  still  at  the  gard  ;  he  and  the  father  sat  to- 
gether of  evenings  ;  he  had  come  to  think  a 
good  deal  of  Baard,  who  was  a  well-educated 
man,  a  deep  thinker,  but  seemed  to  be  afraid  of 
what  he  knew.  Arne  helped  him  to  get  things 
right  in  his  mind  and  told  him  much  that  he 
did  not  know  before,  and  Baard  was  very 
grateful. 

Eli  could  now  sit  up  at  intervals  ;  and  as  she 
began  to  improve  she  took  many  fancies  into 
her  head.  Thus  it  was  that  one  evening  as 
Arne  sat  in  the  room  below  Eli's  chamber  sing- 
ing songs  in  a  loud  voice,  the  mother  came  down 
and  brought  word  that  Eli  wanted  to  know  if 
he  would  not  come  up-stairs  and  sing  that  she 
might  hear  the  words.  Arne  had  undoubtedly 
been  singing  for  Eli  all  along  ;  for  when  her 


140  ARNE. 

mother  gave  him  the  message  he  grew  red,  and 
rose  as  though  he  would  deny  what  he  had  been 
doing,  although  no  one  had  charged  him  with 
it.  He  soon  recovered  his  composure,  and  said 
evasively  that  there  was  very  little  he  could 
sing.  But  the  mother  remarked  that  it  did  not 
seem  so  when  he  was  alone. 

Arne  yielded  and  went.  He  had  not  seen 
Eli  since  the  day  he  had  helped  carry  her  up- 
stairs ;  he  felt  that  she  must  now  be  greatly 
changed,  and  was  almost  afraid  to  see  her.  But 
when  he  softly  opened  the  door  and  entered,  it 
was  so  dark  in  the  room  that  he  saw  no  one. 
He  paused  on  the  threshold. 

"  Who  is  it  ?  "  asked  Eli,  in  a  clear,  low 
voice. 

"  It  is  Arne  Kampen,"  he  answered,  in  a 
guarded  tone,  that  the  words  might  fall  softly. 

"  It  was  kind  of  you  to  come." 

"  How  are  you  now,  Eli  ?  " 

"  Thank  you,  I  am  better." 

"  Please  sit  down,  Arne,"  said  she,  pres- 
ently, and  Arne  felt  his  way  to  a  chair  that 
stood  by  the  foot  of  the  bed.  "  It  was  so  nice 
to  hear  you  singing,  you  must  sing  a  little  for 
me  up  here." 

"  If  I  only  knew  anything  that  was  suitable." 

There  was  silence  for  a  moment ;  then  she 


ARNE.  141 

said, "  Sing  a  hymn,"  and  he  did  so  ;  it  was  a 
part  of  one  of  the  confirmation  hymns.  When 
he  had  finished,  he  heard  that  she  was  weeping, 
and  so  he  dared  not  sing  any  more  ;  but  pres- 
ently she  said,  "  Sing  another  one  like  that," 
and  he  sang  another,  choosing  the  one  usually 
sung  when  the  candidates  for  confirmation  are 
standing  in  the  church  aisle. 

"  How  many  things  I  have  thought  of  while 
I  have  been  lying  here,"  said  Eli.  He  did  not 
know  what  to  answer,  and  he  heard  her  weep- 
ing quietly  in  the  dark.  A  clock  was  ticking 
on  the  wall,  it  gave  warning  that  it  was  about 
to  strike,  and  then  struck;  Eli  drew  a  long 
breath  several  times  as  though  she  would  ease 
her  breast,  and  then  she  said,  "  One  knows  so 
little.  I  have  known  neither  father  nor  mother. 
I  have  not  been  kind  to  them, —  and  that  is 
why  it  gives  me  such  strange  feelings  to  hear 
that  confirmation  hymn." 

When  people  talk  in  the  dark,  they  are  al- 
ways more  truthful  than  when  they  see  each 
other  face  to  face  ;  they  can  say  more,  too. 

"  It  is  good  to  hear  your  words,"  replied 
Arne  ;  he  was  thinking  of  what  she  had  said 
when  she  was  taken  ill. 

She  knew  what  he  meant ;  and  so  she  re- 
marked, "  Had  not  this  happened  to  me,  God 


142  AENE. 

only  knows  how  long  it  might  have  been  before 
I  had  found  my  mother." 

"  She  has  been  talking  with  you  now  ?  " 

"  Every  day  ;  she  has  done  nothing  else." 

"  Then,  I  dare  say,  you  have  heard  many 
things." 

"  You  may  well  say  so." 

"  I  suppose  she  talked  about  my  father  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Does  she  still  think  of  him  ?  " 

«  She  does." 

"  He  was  not  kind  to  her." 

"  Poor  mother  !  " 

"  He  was  worst  of  all,  though,  to  himself." 

Thoughts  now  arose  that  neither  liked  to 
express  to  the  other.  Eli  was  the  first  to  break 
the  silence. 

"  They  say  you  are  like  your  father." 

"  So  I  have  heard,"  he  answered,  evasively. 

She  paid  no  heed  to  the  tone  of  his  voice  ; 
and  so,  after  a  while,  she  continued,  "  Could  he, 
too,  make  songs?" 

"  No." 

"  Sing  a  song  for  me, —  one  you  have  made 
yourself." 

But  Arne  was  not  in  the  habit  of  confessing 
that  the  songs'  he  sang  were  his  own.  "  I  have 
none,"  said  he. 


AKNE.  143 

"  Indeed  you  have,  and  I  am  sure  you  will 
sing  them  for  me  if  I  ask  it." 

What  he  had  never  done  for  others,  he  now 
did  for  her.     He  sang  the  following  song :  — 

"  The  tree's  early  leaf-buds  were  bursting  their  brown: 
'  Shall  I  take  them  away?  '  said  the  frost,  sweeping  down. 

'No,  dear;  leave  them  alone 

Till  blossoms  here  have  grown,' 
Prayed  the  tree,  while  it  trembled  from  rootlet  to  crown. 

"  The  tree  bore  its  blossoms,  and  all  the  birds  sung: 
'  Shall  I  take  them  away  ?  '  said  the  wind,  as  it  swung. 
'  No,  dear;  leave  them  alone 
Till  berries  here  have  grown,' 
Said  the  tree,  while  its  leaflets  all  quivering  hung. 

"  The  tree  bore  its  fruit  in  the  midsummer  glow: 
Said  the  girl,  '  May  I  gather  thy  berries  or  no  ? ' 

'  Yes,  dear,  all  thou  canst  see; 

Take  them;  all  are  for  thee,' 
Said  the  tree,  while  it  bent  down  its  laden  boughs  low."  * 

This  song  almost  took  her  breath  away.  He, 
too,  sat  there  silent,  after  he  was  through,  as 
though  he  had  sung  more  than  he  cared  to  say 
to  her. 

Darkness  has  great  power  over  those  who 
are  sitting  in  it  and  dare  not  speak ;  they  are 
never  so  near  each  other  as  then.  If  Eli  only 
turned,  only  moved  her  hand  on  the  bed-cover, 
only  breathed  a  little  more  heavily  than  usual, 
Arne  heard  it. 

1  Adapted  to  the  metre  of  the  original  from  the  translation  of 
Augusta  Plesner  and  S.  Rugeley-Powers. 


144  ARNE. 

"  Arne,  could  not   you   teach  me  to  make 

songs  ?  " 

"  Have  you  never  tried  ?  " 

"  Yes,  these  last  few  days  I  have  ;  but  I  have 
not  succeeded." 

"  Why,  what  did  you  want  to  have  in 
them?" 

"  Something  about  my  mother,  who  cared  so 
much  for  your  father." 

"  That  is  a  sad  theme." 

"  I  have  cried  over  it,  too." 

"  You  must  not  think  of  what  you  are  going 
to  put  in  your  songs  ;  it  comes  of  itself." 

"  How  does  it  come? " 

"  As  other  precious  things,  when  you  least 
expect  it." 

They  wei*e  both  silent. 

"I  wonder,  Arne,  that  you  are  longing  to 
go  away  when  you  have  so  much  that  is  beau- 
tiful within  yourself." 

"  Do  you  know  that  I  am  longing?  " 

She  made  no  reply  to  this,  but  lay  still  a  few 
moments,  as  though  in  thought. 

"  Arne,  you  must  not  go  away !  "  said  she, 
and  this  sent  a  glow  through  him. 

"  Well,  sometimes  I  have  less  desire  to  go." 

"  Your  mother  must  be  very  fond  of  you.  I 
should  like  to  see  your  mother." 


ARNE.  145 

"  Come  over  to  Kampen  when  you  are  well." 

And  now  all  at  once  be  pictured  her  sit- 
ting in  the  cheerful  room  at  Kampen,  looking 
out  on  the  mountains  ;  his  chest  began  to  heave, 
the  blood  rushed  to  his  head.  "  It  is  warm  in 
here,"  said  he,  getting  up. 

She  heard  this.  "  Are  you  going,  Arne  ?  " 
asked  she,  and  he  sat  down  again. 

"  You  must  come  over  to  us  often ;  mother 
likes  you  so  much." 

"  I  should  be  glad  to  come  myself ;  but  I  must 
have  some  errand,  though." 

Eli  was  silent  for  a  while,  as  if  she  were 
considering  something.  "  I  believe,"  said  she, 
"  that  mother  has  something  she  wants  to  ask 
of  you." 

He  heard  her  turn  in  bed.  There  was  no 
sound  to  be  heard,  either  in  the  room  or  out- 
side, save  the  ticking  of  the  clock  on  the  wall. 
At  last  she  burst  out, — 

"  How  I  wish  it  were  summer  !  " 

"  That  it  were  summer?  "  and  there  rose  up 
in  his  mind,  blended  with  fragrant  foliage  and 
the  tinkling  of  cattle  bells,  shouts  from  the 
mountains,  singing  from  the  valleys,  Black 
Water  glittering  in  the  sunshine,  the  gards 
rocking  in  it,  and  Eli  coming  out  and  sitting 
down,  as  she  had  done  that  evening  long  ago. 

10 


146  AENE. 

"If    it   were    summer,"    said   she,    "and   I 

were  sitting    on    the   hill,   I    really  believe    1 

could  sing  a  song." 

He  laughed  and  asked  :  "  What  would  it  be 

about  ?  " 

"  Oh,  something  easy,  about  —  I  do  not  know 

myself  —  " 

"  Tell  me,  Eli !  "  and  he  sprang  up  in  de- 
light ;  then,  recollecting  himself,  he  sat  down 

again. 

"  No ;  not  for  all  the  world  !  "     She  laughed. 

"  I  sang  for  you  when  you  asked  me." 

"  Yes,  you  did  ;  but  —  no  !  no  !  " 

"  Eli,  do  you  think   I   would  make  sport  of 

your  little  verse  ?  " 

"  No ;  I  do  not  think  so,  Arne  ;   but  it  is 

not  anything  I  have  made  myself." 
"  It  is  by  some  one  else,  then." 
"  Yes,  it  just  came  floating  of  itself." 
"  Then  you  can  surely  repeat  it  to  me." 
"  No,  no ;  it  is   not   altogether   that   either, 

Arne.     Do  not  ask  me  any  more."     She  must 

have  hid  her  face  in  the  bedclothes,  for  the  last 

words  seemed  to  come  out  of  them. 

"  You  are  not  as  kind  to  me  now,  Eli,  as  I 

was  to  you  !  "  he  said,  and  rose. 

"  Arne,  there   is  a  difference  —  you  do    not 

understand  me  —  but  it  was  —  I  do  not  know 


ARNE.  147 

myself  —  another  time  —  do  not  be  angry  with 
me,  Arne  !  Do  not  go  away  from  me  !  "  She 
began  to  weep. 

"Eli,  what  is  the  matter?"  He  listened. 
"  Are  you  feeling  ill  ?  "  He  did  not  think  she 
was.  She  still  wept ;  he  thought  that  he  must 
either  go  forward  or  backward. 

"Eli!" 

"  Yes  ! " 

They  both  spoke  in  whispers. 

"  Give  me  your  hand  !  " 

She  did  not  answer  ;  he  listened  intently, 
eagerly,  felt  about  on  the  coverlid,  and  clasped 
a  warm  little  hand  that  lay  outside. 

They  heard  steps  on  the  stairs,  and  let  go  of 
each  other's  hands.  It  was  Eli's  mother,  who 
was  bringing  in  a  light.  "  You  are  sitting 
quite  too  long  in  the  dark,"  said  she,  and  put 
the  candlestick  on  the  table.  But  neither  Eli 
nor  Arne  could  bear  the  light ;  she  turned 
toward  the  pillow,  he  held  his  hand  up  before 
his  eyes.  "  Oh,  yes  ;  it  hurts  the  eyes  a  little 
at  first,"  said  her  mother  ;  "  but  that  will  soon 
pass  off." 

Arne  searched  on  the  floor  for  the  cap  he 
did  not  have  with  him,  and  then  he  left  the 
room. 


148  ARNE. 

The  next  day  he  heard  that  Eli  was  coming 
down-stairs  for  a  little  while  after  dinner.  He 
gathered  together  his  tools,  and  said  good-by. 
When  she  came  down  he  was  gone. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

Spring  comes  late  in  the  mountains.  The 
mail  that  passed  along  the  highway  during  the 
winter  three  times  a  wreek,  in  April  only  passes 
once,  and  the  inhabitants  know  then  that  in 
the  outside  world  the  snow  is  thawed,  the  ice 
broken  ;  that  the  steamers  are  running,  and  the 
plow  put  into  the  earth.  Here,  the  snow  still 
lies  three  ells  deep ;  the  cattle  low  in  the  stalls, 
and  the  birds  come,  but  hide  themselves,  shiv- 
ering with  the  cold.  Occasionally  some  traveler 
arrives,  saying  he  has  left  his  cart  down  in  the 
valley,  and  he  has  flowers  with  him,  which  he 
shows,  —  he  has  gathered  them  by  the  wayside. 
Then  the  people  become  restless,  go  about  talk- 
ing together,  look  at  the  sky  and  down  in  the 
valley,  wondering  how  much  the  sun  gains  each 
day.  They  strew  ashes  on  the  snow,  and  think 
of  those  who  are  now  gathering  flowers. 

It  was  at  such  a  time  that  old  Margit  Kam- 
pen  came  walking  up  to  the  parsonage  and  asked 
to  speak  with  "father."1     She  was  invited  into 

1  The  peasants  call  the  priest  father. 


150  ARNE. 

the  study,  where  the  priest,  a  slender,  fair- 
haired,  gentle-looking  man  with  large  eyes  and 
spectacles,  received  her  kindly,  knew  who  she 
was,  and  asked  her  to  sit  down. 

"  Is  it  now  something  about  Arne  again  ?  " 
he  inquired,  as  though  they  had  often  talked 
together  about  him. 

"  Heaven  help  me  !  "  said  Margit ;  "  it  is 
never  anything  but  good  I  have  to  say  of  him, 
and  yet  my  heart  is  so  heavy.  She  looked 
very  sad  as  she  spoke. 

"  Has  that  longing  come  back  again  ?  " 
asked  the  priest. 

"  Worse  than  ever,"  said  the  mother.  "  I 
do  not  even  believe  he  will  stay  with  me  until 
spring  comes  to  us  here." 

"  And  yet  he  has  promised  never  to  leave 
you." 

"  True  enough  ;  but,  dear  me,  he  must  man- 
age for  himself  now  ;  when  the  mind  is  set  upon 
going,  go  one  must,  I  suppose.  But  what  will 
become  of  me  ?  " 

"  Still  I  will  believe,  as  long  as  possible,  that 
he  will  not  leave  you,"  said  the  priest. 

"  Certainly  not ;  but  what  if  he  should  never 
be  content  at  home?  I  would  then  have  it  on 
my  conscience  that  I  stood  in  his  way.  There 
are  times  when  I  think  I  ought  to  ask  him 
myself  to  go  away." 


ARNE.  151 

"  How  do  you  know  that  lie  is  longing  now 
more  than  ever?  " 

"  Oh,  from  many  things.  Since  midwinter 
he  has  not  worked  out  in  the  parish  a  single 
day.  On  the  other  hand,  he  has  made  three 
trips  to  town,  and  has  stayed  away  a  long  while 
each  time.  He  scarcely  ever  talks  now  when 
he  is  working,  as  he  often  used  to  do.  He  sits 
for  hours  by  the  little  window  up-stairs,  and 
looks  out  over  the  mountains  in  the  direction 
of  the  Kamp  gorge  ;  he  sometimes  stays  there 
a  whole  Sunday  afternoon,  and  often  when  it  is 
moonlight,  he  sits  there  far  into  the  night." 

"  Does  he  never  read  to  you  ?  " 

"  Of  course  he  reads  and  sings  to  me  every 
Sunday  ;  but  he  always  seems  in  a  hurry,  ex- 
cept now  and  then,  when  he  overdoes  it." 

"  Does  he  never  come  and  talk  with  you  ?  " 

"  He  often  lets  so  long  a  time  pass  without 
saying  a  word,  that  I  cannot  help  crying  when 
l  sit  alone.  Then,  I  suppose,  he  sees  this,  for 
he  begins  to  talk  with  me,  but  it  is  always 
about  trifles,  never  about  anything  serious." 

The  priest  was  walking  up  and  down  ;  now 
he  stopped  and  asked,  "  Why  do  you  not  speak 
with  him  about  it?" 

It  was  some  time  before  she  made  any  reply 
to  this;  she  sighed   several  times,  she  looked 


152  ARNE. 

first  downward,  then  on  either  side,  —  she  folded 
the  handkerchief  she  carried. 

"  I  came  here  to-day  to  have  a  talk  with  fa- 
ther about  something  that  lies  heavily  on  my 
heart." 

"  Speak  freely,  it  will  lighten  the  burden." 

"  I  know  that ;  for  I  have  now  dragged  it 
along  alone  these  many  years,  and  it  grows 
heavier  each  year." 

"  What  is  it,  my  good  woman?  " 

There  was  a  brief  pause ;  then  she  said,  "  I 
have  sinned  greatly  against  my  son,"  —  and  she 
began  to  cry. 

The  priest  came  close  up  to  her.  "  Confess 
it  to  me,"  said  he,  "then  we  will  together  pray 
God  that  you  may  be  forgiven." 

Margit  sobbed  and  dried  her  eyes,  but  began 
to  weep  afresh  as  soon  as  she  tried  to  speak, 
and  this  was  repeated  several  times.  The 
priest  comforted  her,  and  said  she  surely  could 
not  have  been  guilty  of  anything  very  sinful, 
that  she  was  no  doubt  too  strict  with  herself, 
and  so  on.  Margit  wept,  however,  and  could 
not  muster  the  courage  to  begin  until  the  priest 
had  seated  himself  by  her  side  and  spoken 
kindly  words  to  her.  Then,  in  broken  sen- 
tences, she  faltered  forth  her  confession  :  — 

"  He  had  a  hard  time  of  it  when  he  was  a 


ARNE.  153 

boy,  and  so  his  mind  became  bent  on  travel. 
Then  he  met  Kristian,  he  who  has  grown  so 
very  rich  over  there  where  they  dig  for  gold. 
Kristian  gave  Arne  so  many  books  that  \rx 
ceased  to  be  like  the  rest  of  us ;  they  sat  to- 
gether in  the  long  evenings,  and  when  Kristian 
went  away,  my  boy  longed  to  follow  him.  Just 
at  that  time,  though,  his  father  fell  down  dead, 
and  Arne  promised  never  to  leave  me.  Yet  I 
was  like  a  hen  that  had  brooded  a  duck's  egg, 
when  the  young  duckling  had  burst  the  shell, 
he  wanted  to  go  out  on  the  great  water,  and  I 
remained  on  the  bank  screaming.  If  he  did 
not  actually  go  away  himself,  his  heart  went  in 
his  songs,  and  every  morning  I  thought  I  would 
find  his  bed  empty. 

"  Then  there  came  a  letter  for  him  from  a 
far-off  country,  and  I  knew  it  must  be  from 
Kristian.  God  forgive  me,  I  hid  it !  I  thought 
that  would  be  the  end  of  the  matter,  but  still 
another  one  came,  and  as  I  had  kept  the  first 
from  him,  I  had  to  keep  the  second  one  too 
But,  indeed,  it  seemed  as  though  they  would 
burn  a  hole  in  the  chest  where  they  lay,  for 
my  thoughts  would  go  there  from  the  time  I 
opened  my  eyes  in  the  morning  until  I  closed 
them  at  night.  And  you  never  have  known 
anything  so  bad  as  this,  for  there  came  a  third! 


154  ARNE. 

I  stood  holding  it  in  my  hand  for  a  quarter  of 
an  hour  ;  I  carried  it  in  my  bosom  for  three 
days,  weighing  within  me  whether  I  should 
give  it  to  him  or  lay  it  away  with  the  others^ 
but  perhaps  it  would  have  power  to  lure  the 
boy  away  from  me,  and  I  could  not  help  it,  I 
put  the  letter  away  with  the  others.  Now  I 
went  about  in  sorrow  every  day,  both  because 
of  those  that  were  in  the  chest  and  because  of 
the  new  ones  that  might  come.  I  was  afraid 
of  every  person  who  came  to  our  house.  When 
we  were  in  the  house  together,  and  there  came 
a  knock  at  the  door,  I  trembled,  for  it  might  be 
a  letter,  and  then  he  would  get  it.  When  he 
was  out  in  the  parish,  I  kept  thinking  at  home 
that  now  perhaps  he  would  get  a  letter  while 
he  was  away,  and  that  it  might  have  something 
in  it  about  those  that  had  come  before.  When 
he  was  coming  home,  I  watched  his  face  in  the 
distance,  and,  dear  me  !  how  happy  I  was  when 
I  saw  him  smiling,  for  then  I  knew  he  had  no 
letter  !  He  had  grown  so  handsome,  too,  just 
like  his  father,  but  much  fairer  and  more  gen- 
tle-looking. And  then  he  had  such  a  voice  for 
singing :  when  he  sat  outside  of  the  door  at 
sunset,  singing  toward  the  mountain  ridge  and 
listening  for  the  echo,  I  felt  in  my  heart  that  I 
never  could  live  without  him  !     If  I  only  saw 


ARNE.  155 

him,  or  if  I  knew  he  was  anywhere  around,  and 
he  looked  tolerably  happy,  and  would  only  give 
me  a  word  now  and  then,  I  wished  for  nothing 
more  on  earth,  and  would  not  have  had  a  single 
tear  unshed. 

"  But  just  as  he  seemed  to  be  getting  on  bet- 
ter, and  to  be  feeling  more  at  ease  among  peo- 
ple, there  came  word  from  the  parish  post-office 
that  a  fourth  letter  had  now  come,  and  that  in 
it  there  were  two  hundred  dollars  !  I  thought 
I  should  drop  right  down  on  the  spot  where  I 
stood.  What  should  I  do  now?  The  letter,  of 
course,  I  could  get  out  of  the  way  ;  but  the 
money  ?  I  could  not  sleep  for  several  nights 
on  account  of  this  money.  I  kept  it  up  in  the 
garret  for  a  while,  then  left  it  in  the  cellar  be- 
hind a  barrel,  and  once  I  was  so  beside  myself 
that  I  laid  it  in  the  window  so  that  he  might 
find  it.  When  I  heard  him  coming,  I  took  it 
away  again.  At  last  I  found  a  way,  though 
I  gave  him  the  money  and  said  it  had  been  out 
at  interest  since  mother's  lifetime.  He  spent 
it  in  improving  the  gard,  as  had  been  in  my 
own  mind,  and  there  it  was  not  lost.  But  then 
it  happened  that  same  autumn  that  he  sat  one 
evening  wondering  why  Kristian  had  so  entirely 
forgotten  him. 

"Now   the    wound    opened   afresh,   and  the 


156  ARNE. 

money  burned:  What  I  had  done  was  a  sin, 
and  the  sin  had  been  of  no  use  to  me  ! 

"  The  mother  who  has  sinned  against  hel 
own  child  is  the  most  unhappy  of  all  mothers, 
—  and  yet  I  only  did  it  out  of  love.  So  I  shall 
be  punished,  I  dare  say,  by  losing  what  is  dear- 
est to  me.  For  since  midwinter  he  has  taken 
up  again  the  tune  he  sings  when  he  is  longing  ; 
he  has  sung  it  from  boyhood  up,  and  I  never 
hear  it  without  growing  pale.  Then  I  feel  I 
could  give  up  all  for  him,  and  now  you  shall  see 
for  yourself,"  —  she  took  a  scrap  of  paper  out 
of  her  bosom,  unfolded  it,  and  gave  it  to  the 
priest,  —  "  here  is  something  he  is  writing  at 
from  time  to  time  ;  it  certainly  belongs  to  that 
song.  I  brought  it  with  me,  for  I  cannot  read 
such  fine  writing;  please  see  if  there  is  any- 
thing in  it  about  his  going  away." 

There  was  only  one  stanza  on  this  paper.  For 
the  second  one  there  were  half  and  whole  lines 
here  and  there,  as  if  it  were  a  song  he  had  for- 
gotten, and  was  now  calling  to  mind  again,  verse 
by  verse.     The  first  stanza  ran,  — 

"  Oh,  how  I  wonder  what  I  should  see 

Over  the  lofty  mountains ! 
Snow  here  shuts  out  the  view  from  me, 
Round  about  stands  the  green  pine-tree, 

Longing  to  hasten  over  — 

Dare  it  become  a  rover? 


ARNE.  157 

"  Is  it  about  his  going  away  ?  "  asked  Margit, 
her  eyes  fixed  eagerly  on  tbe  priest's  face. 

"  Yes,  it  is,"  answered  be,  and  let  tbe  paper 
drop. 

"  Was  I  not  sure  of  it !  Ab,  me  !  I  know 
tbat  tune  so  well !  "  Sbe  looked  at  tbe  priest, 
ber  bands  folded,  anxious,  intent,  wbile  tear 
after  tear  trickled  down  ber  cbeek. 

But  the  priest  knew  as  little  bow  to  advise 
as  she.  "  Tbe  boy  must  be  left  to  himself  in 
this  matter,"  said  he.  "  Life  cannot  be  altered 
for  his  sake,  but  it  depends  on  himself  whether 
he  shall  one  day  find  out  its  meaning.  Now 
it  seems  he  wants  to  go  away  to  do  so." 

"  But  was  it  not  just  so  with  the  old  wom- 
an ?  "  said  Margit. 

"With  tbe  old  woman?"  repeated  the  priest. 

"  Yes  ;  she  wbo  went  out  to  fetch  the  sun- 
shine into  ber  house,  instead  of  cutting  win- 
dows in  tbe  walls." 

The  priest  was  astonished  at  her  shrewd- 
ness ;  but  it  was  not  the  first  time  she  bad  sur- 
prised him  when  she  was  on  this  theme ;  »for 
Margit,  indeed,  had  not  thought  of  anything 
else  for  seven  or  eight  years. 

"Do  you  think  he  will  leave  me?  What 
shall  I  do  ?  And  the  money  ?  And  the  let- 
ters ?  "     All  this  crowded  upon  her  at  once. 


158  ARNE. 

"  Well,  it  was  not  right  about  the  letters. 
You  can  hardly  be  justified  in  withholding 
from  your  son  what  belonged  to  him.  It  was 
still  worse,  however,  to  place  a  fellow  Chris- 
tian in  a  bad  light  when  it  was  not  deserved, 
and  the  worst  of  all  was  that  it  was  one  whom 
Arne  loved  and  who  was  very  fond  of  him  in 
return.  But  we  will  pray  God  to  forgive  you, 
we  will  both  pray." 

Margit  bowed  her  head;  she  still  sat  with 
her  hands  folded. 

"  How  earnestly  I  would  pray  him  for  for- 
giveness, if  I  only  knew  he  would  stay  !  "  She 
was  probably  confounding  in  her  mind  the 
Lord  and  Arne. 

The  priest  pretended  he  had  not  noticed 
this.  "  Do  you  mean  to  confess  this  to  him  at 
once?  "  he  asked. 

She  looked  down  and  said  in  a  low  tone, 
"  If  I  dared  wait  a  little  while  I  should  like  to 
do  so." 

The  priest  turned  aside  to  hide  a  smile,  as  he 
asked,  "  Do  you  not  think  your  sin  becomes 
greater  the  longer  you  delay  the  confession  ?  " 

Both  hands  were  busied  with  her  handker- 
chief :  she  folded  it  into  a  very  small  square, 
and  tried  to  get  it  into  a  still  smaller  one,  but 
that  was  not  possible. 


ARNE.  159 

"  If  I  confess  about  the  letters,  I  am  afraid 
he  will  leave  me." 

"You  dare  not  place  your  reliance  on  the 
Lord,  then  ?  " 

"  Why,  to  be  sure  T  do  !  "  she  said  hurriedly; 
then  she  added  softly,  "  But  what  if  he  should 
go  anyway  ?  " 

"  So,  then,  you  are  more  afraid  of  Arne's 
leaving  you  than  of  continuing  in  sin  ?  " 

Margit  had  unfolded  her  handkerchief  again  ; 
she  put  it  now  to  her  eyes,  for  she  was  begin- 
ning to  weep. 

The  priest  watched  her  for  a  while,  then  he 
continued:  "Why  did  you  tell  me  all  this 
when  you  did  not  mean  it  to  lead  to  any- 
thing ?  "  He  waited  a  long  time,  but  she  did 
not  answer.  "  You  thought,  perhaps,  your  sin 
would  become  less  when  you  had  confessed 
it?" 

"I  thought  that  it  would,"  said  she,  softty, 
with  her  head  bowed  still  farther  down  on  her 
breast. 

The  priest  smiled  and  got  up.  "  Well,  well, 
my  dear  Margit,  you  must  act  so  that  you  will 
have  joy  in  your  old  age." 

"  If  I  could  only  keep  what  I  have  !  "  said  she  ; 
and  the  priest  thought  she  dared  not  imagine 
any  greater  happiness  than  living  in  her  con- 


160  ARNE. 

stant  state  of  anxiety.  He  smiled  as  he  lit 
his  pipe. 

"  If  we  only  had  a  little  girl  who  could  get 
hold  of  him,  then  you  should  see  that  he  would 
stay  ! " 

She  looked  up  quickly,  and  her  eyes  followed 
the  priest  until  he  paused  in  front  of  her. 

»  Eli  Boen?     What  "  — 

She  colored  and  looked  down  again ;  but  she 
made  no  reply. 

The  priest,  who  had  stood  still,  waiting,  said 
finally,  but  this  time  in  quite  a  low  tone : 
"  What  if  we  should  arrange  it  so  that  they 
should  meet  oftener  at  the  parsonage  ?  " 

She  glanced  up  at  the  priest  to  find  out 
whether  he  was  really  in  earnest.  But  she  did 
not  quite  dare  believe  him. 

The  priest  had  begun  to  walk  up  and  down 
again,  but  now  he  paused.  "  See  here,  Margit ! 
When  it  comes  to  the  point,  perhaps  this  was 
your  whole  errand  here  to-day,  hey  ?  " 

She  bowed  her  head  far  down,  she  thrust 
two  fingers  into  the  folded  handkerchief,  and 
brought  out  a  corner  of  it.  "  Well,  yes,  God 
help  me  ;  that  was  exactly  what  I  wanted." 

The  priest  burst  out  laughing,  and  rubbed 
his  hands.  "  Perhaps  that  was  what  you 
wanted  the  last  time  you  were  here,  too  ? " 


AKNE.  161 

She  drew  the  corner  of  the  handkerchief  far- 
ther out ;  she  stretched  it  and  stretched  it. 
"  Since  you  ask  me,  yes,  it  was  just  that." 

"  Ha,  ha,  ha,  ha  !  Ah,  Margit !  Margit ! 
We  shall  see  what  we  can  do  ;  for,  to  tell  the 
truth,  my  wife  and  daughter  have  for  a  long 
time  had  the  same  thoughts  as  you." 

"  Is  it  possible  ?  "  She  looked  up,  at  once 
so  happy  and  so  bashful,  that  the  priest  had 
his  own  delight  in  her  open,  pretty  face,  in 
which  the  childlike  expression  had  been  pre- 
served through  all  sorrow  and  anxiety. 

"  Ah,  well,  Margit,  you,  whose  love  is  so  great, 
will,  I  have  no  doubt,  obtain  forgiveness,  for 
love's  sake,  both  from  your  God  and  from  your 
son,  for  the  wrong  you  have  done.  You  have 
probably  been  punished  enough  already  in  the 
continual,  wearing  anxiety  you  have  lived  in ; 
we  shall,  if  God  is  willing,  bring  this  to  a 
speedy  end,  for,  if  He  ivishes  this,  He  will  help 
us  a  little  now." 

She  drew  a  long  sigh,  which  she  repeated 
again  and  again ;  then  she  arose,  gave  her 
thanks,  dropped  a  courtesy,  and  courtesied 
again  at  the  door.  But  she  was  scarcely  well 
outside  before  a  change  came  over  her.  She 
cast  upward  a  look  beaming  with  gratitude, 
and  she  hurried  more  and  more  the  farther  she 
H 


162  AENE. 

got  away  from  people,  and  lightly  as  she  tripped 
down  toward  Kampen  that  day,  she  had  not 
done  for  many,  many  years.  When  she  got 
so  far  on  her  way  that  she  could  see  the  thick 
smoke  curling  gayly  up  from  the  chimney,  she 
blessed  the  house,  the  whole  gard,  the  priest, 
and  Arne,  —  and  then  remembered  that  they 
were  going  to  have  smoked  beef  for  dinner,  — 
her  favorite  dish ! 


CHAPTER   XIV. 

Kampen  was  a  beautiful  gard.  It  lay  in  the 
midst  of  a  plain,  bordered  below  by  the  Kamp 
gorge,  and  above  by  the  parish  road ;  on  the 
opposite  side  of  the  road  was  a  thick  wood,  a 
little  farther  beyond,  a  rising  mountain  ridge, 
and  behind  this  the  blue,  snow-capped  mount- 
ains. On  the  other  side  of  the  gorge  there 
was  also  a  broad  mountain  range,  which  first 
entirely  surrounded  Black  Water  on  the  side 
where  Boen  lay,  then  grew  higher  toward 
Kampen,  but  at  the  same  time  turned  aside 
to  make  way  for  the  broad  basin  called  the 
lower  parish,  and  which  began  just  below,  for 
Kampen  was  the  last  gard  in  the  upper  parish. 

The  front  door  of  the  dwelling-house  was 
turned  toward  the  road  ;  it  was  probably  about 
two  thousand  paces  off ;  a  path  with  leafy  birch- 
trees  on  either  side  led  thither.  The  wood  lay 
on  both  sides  of  the  clearing;  the  fields  and 
meadows  could,  therefore,  extend  as  far  as  the 
owners  themselves  wished ;  it  was  in  all  re- 
spects a  most  excellent  gard.     A  little  garden 


164  ARNE. 

lay  in  front  of  the  house.  Arne  managed  it  as 
his  books  directed.  To  the  left  were  the  sta- 
bles and  other  out-houses.  They  were  nearly 
all  new  built,  and  formed  a  square  opposite  the 
dwelling-house.  The  latter  was  painted  red, 
with  white  window-frames  and  doors,  was  two 
stories  high,  thatched  with  turf,  and  small 
shrubs  grew  on  the  roof ;  the  one  gable  had  a 
vane  staff,  on  which  turned  an  iron  cock,  with 
high,  spread  tail. 

Spring  had  come  to  the  mountain  districts. 
It  was  a  Sunday  morning ;  there  was  a  little 
heaviness  in  the  air,  but  it  was  calm  and  with- 
out frost ;  mist  hung  over  the  wood,  but  Mar- 
git  thought  it  would  lift  during  the  day.  Arne 
had  read  the  sermon  for  his  mother  and  sung 
the  hymns,  which  had  done  him  good ;  now  he 
was  in  full  trim,  ready  to  go  up  to  the  parson- 
age. He  opened  the  door,  the  fresh  perfume  of 
the  leaves  was  wafted  toward  him,  the  garden 
lay  dew-covered  and  bowed  by  the  morning 
mist,  and  from  the  Kamp  gorge  there  came 
a  roaring,  mingled  at  intervals  with  mighty 
booms,  making  everything  tremble  to  the  ear 
and  the  eye. 

Arne  walked  upward.  The  farther  he  got 
from  the  force  the  less  awe-inspiring  became  its 
roar,  which  finally  spread  itself  like  the  deep 
tones  of  an  organ  over  the  whole  landscape. 


ARNE.  165 

"  The  Lord  be  with  him  on  his  way  !  "  said 
the  mother,  opening  the  window  and  looking 
after  him  until  the  shrubbery  closed  about  him. 
The  fog  lifted  more  and  more,  the  sun  cut 
through  it ;  there  was  life  now  about  the  fields 
and  in  the  garden  ;  all  Arne's  work  sprouted 
out  in  fresh  growth,  sending  fragrance  and  joy 
up  to  the  mother.  Spring  is  lovely  to  those 
who  long  have  been  surrounded  by  winter. 

Arne  had  no  fixed  errand  at  the  parsonage, 
but  still  he  wanted  to  learn  about  the  papers 
he  and  the  priest  took  together.  Recently  he 
had  seen  the  names  of  several  Norsemen  who 
had  done  remarkably  well  digging  gold  in 
America,  and  among  them  was  Kristian.  Now 
Arne  had  heard  a  rumor  that  Kristian  was  ex- 
pected home.  He  could,  no  doubt,  get  infor- 
mation about  this  at  the  parsonage,  —  and  if 
Kristian  had  really  returned,  then  Arne  would 
go  to  him  in  the  interval  between  spring  and 
haying  time.  This  was  working  in  his  mind 
until  he  had  advanced  so  far  that  he  could  see 
Black  Water,  and  Boen  on  the  other  side.  The 
fog  had  lifted  there,  too ;  the  sun  was  playing 
on  the  green,  the  mountain  loomed  up  with 
shining  peak,  but  the  fog  was  still  lying  in  its 
lap ;  the  wood  darkened  the  water  on  the  right 
Bide,  but  in  front  of  the  house  the  ground  was 


166  ARNE. 

more  flat,  and  its  white  sand  glittered  in  the 
sunshine.  Suddenly  his  thoughts  sped  to  the 
red-painted  building  with  white  doors  and  win- 
dow-frames, that  he  had  had  in  mind  when  he 
painted  his  own.  He  did  not  remember  those 
first  gloomy  days  he  had  passed  there  ;  he  only 
thought  of  that  bright  summer  they  had  both 
seen,  he  and  Eli,  up  beside  her  sick-bed.  Since 
then  he  had  not  been  to  Boen,  nor  would  he  go 
there,  not  for  the  whole  world.  If  only  his 
thoughts  barely  touched  on  it,  he  grew  crimson 
and  abashed ;  and  yet  this  happened  again 
every  day,  and  many  times  a  day.  If  there 
was  anything  which  could  drive  him  out  of  the 
parish,  it  was  just  this  ! 

Onward  he  went,  as  though  he  would  flee 
from  his  thoughts,  but  the  farther  he  walked 
the  nearer  opposite  Boen  he  came,  and  the  more 
lie  gazed  upon  it.  The  fog  was  entirely  gone, 
the  sky  clear  from  one  mountain  outline  to  the 
other,  the  birds  sailed  along  and  called  aloud  to 
one  another  in  the  glad  sunny  air,  the  fields  re- 
sponded with  millions  of  flowers ;  the  Kamp 
force  did  not  here  compel  gladness  to  bow  the 
knee  in  submission  and  awe,  but  buoyant  and 
frolicsome  it  tumbled  over,  singing,  twinkling, 
rejoicing  without  end  ! 

Arne   had  walked  till  he  was  in  a  glowing 


ARNE.  1G7 

heat ;  he  flung  himself  down  in  the  grass  at  the 
foot  of  a  hill,  looked  over  towards  Bb'en,  then 
turned  away  to  avoid  seeing  it.  Presently  he 
heard  singing  above  him,  pure  and  clear,  as  song 
had  never  sounded  to  him  before ;  it  floated  out 
over  the  meadow,  mingled  with  the  chattering 
of  the  birds,  and  he  was  scarcely  sure  of  the 
tune  before  he  recognized  the  words  too,  —  for 
the  tune  was  his  favorite  one,  and  the  words 
were  those  that  had  been  working  in  his  mind 
from  the  time  he  was  a  boy,  and  forgotten  the 
same  day  he  had  brought  them  forth !  He 
sprang  up  as  though  he  would  catch  them,  then 
paused  and  listened  ;  here  came  the  first  stanza, 
here  came  the  second,  here  came  the  third  and 
the  fourth  of  his  own  forgotten  song  stream 
ing  down  to  him :  — 

"  Oh,  how  I  wonder  what  I  should  see 

Over  the  lofty  mountains ! 
Snow  here  shuts  out  the  view  from  me, 
Round  about  stands  the  green  pine-tree, 

Longing  to  hasten  over  — 

Dare  it  become  a  rover  ? 

"  Soars  the  eagle  with  strong  wing  play, 
Over  the  lofty  mountains; 

Rows  through  the  young  and  vigorous  day, 

Sating  his  courage  in  quest  of  prey; 

When  he  will  swooping  downward, 
Tow'rd  far-off  lands  gazing  onward. 


168  ARNE. 

"  Leaf-heavy  apple,  wilt  thou  not  go 
Over  the  lofty  mountains? 
Forth  putting  buds  'mid  summer's  glow, 
Thou  wilt  till  next  time  wait,  I  know ; 
All  of  these  birds  art  swinging, 
Knowing  not  what  they  're  singing. 

"  He  who  for  twenty  years  longed  to  flee 
Over  the  lofty  mountains, 
Nor  beyond  them  can  hope  to  see, 
Smaller  each  year  feels  himself  to  be; 
Hears  what  the  birds  are  singing, 
Thou  art  with  confidence  swinging. 

"  Bird,  with  thy  chatt'ring,  what  wouldst  thou  here 
Over  the  lofty  mountains  ? 
Fairer  the  lands  beyond  must  appear, 
Higher  the  trees  and  the  skies  far  more  clear. 
Wouldst  thou  but  longing  be  bringing, 
Bird,  but  no  wings  with  thy  singing  ? 

"  Shall  I  the  journey  never  take 

Over  the  lofty  mountains  ? 

Must  my  poor  thoughts  on  this  rock-wall  break  ? 

Must  it  a  dread,  ice-bound  prison  make, 
Shutting  at  last  in  arouud  me, 
Till  for  my  tomb  it  surround  me  ? 

"  Forth  will  I !  forth !     Oh,  far,  far  away, 
Over  the  lofty  mountains ! 

I  will  be  crushed  and  consumed  if  I  stay; 

Courage  tow'rs  up  and  seeks  the  way, 
Let  it  its  flight  now  be  taking, 
Not  on  this  rock-wall  be  breaking  1 

M  One  day  I  know  I  shall  wander  afar 
Over  the  lofty  mountains! 
Lord,  my  Ood,  is  thy  door  ajar  ? 


ARNE  169 

Good  is  thy  home  where  the  blessed  are ; 

Keep  it  though  closed  a  while  longer, 
Till  my  deep  longing  grow  stronger."  1 

Arne  stood  still  until  the  last  verse,  the  last 
word,  had  died  away.  Again  he  heard  the  birds 
sporting  and  twittering,  but  he  knew  not 
whether  he  himself  dared  stir.  Find  out  who 
had  been  singing,  though,  he  must ;  he  raised 
his  foot  and  trod  so  carefully  that  he  could 
not  hear  the  grass  rustle.  A  little  butterfly- 
alighted  on  a  flower,  directly  at  his  feet,  had 
to  start  up  again,  flew  only  a  little  piece  far- 
ther, had  to  start  up  again,  and  so  on  all  over 
the  hill  as  he  crept  cautiously  up.  Soon  he 
came  to  a  leafy  bush,  and  cared  to  go  no  far- 
ther, for  now  he  could  see.  A  bird  flew  up 
from  the  bush,  gave  a  startled  cry  and  darted 
over  the  sloping  hill-side,  and  then  she  who 
was  sitting  within  view  looked  up.  Arne 
stooped  far  down,  holding  his  breath,  his  heart 
throbbing  so  wildly  that  he  heard  its  every 
beat,  listening,  not  daring  to  move  a  leaf,  for 
it  was,  indeed,  she,  —  it  was  Eli  whom  he 
saw  ! 

After  a  long,  long  while,  he  looked  up  just 
a  little,  and  would  gladly  have  drawn  a  step 
nearer  •    but  he  thought  the    bird  might  per- 

1  Auber  Forestier's  translation. 


170  ARNE. 

haps  have  its  nest  under  the  bush,  and  was 
afraid  he  would  tread  on  it.  He  peered  out  be- 
tween the  leaves  as  they  blew  aside  and  closed 
together  again.  The  sun  shone  directly  on 
her.  She  wore  a  black  dress  without  sleeves,1 
and  .had  a  boy's  straw  hat  perched  lightly  on 
her  head,  and  slanting  a  little  to  one  side.  In 
her  lap  lay  a  book,  and  on  it  a  profusion  of  wild 
flowers  ;  her  right  hand  was  dreamily  toying 
with  them ;  in  her  left,  which  rested  on  her 
knee,  her  head  was  bowed.  She  was  gazing 
in  the  direction  of  the  bird's  flight,  and  it  really 
seemed  as  though  she  had  been  weeping. 

Anything  more  lovely  Arne  had  neither  seen 
nor  dreamed  of  in  his  whole  life  ;  the  sun,  too, 
had  scattered  all  its  gold  over  her  and  the  spot 
where  she  was  sitting,  and  the  song  still  floated 
about  her,  although  its  last  notes  had  long  since 
been  sung,  so  that  he  thought,  breathed  —  aye, 
even  his  heart  beat  in  time  to  it. 

She  took  up  the  book  and  opened  it,  but  soon 
closed  it  again  and  sat  as  before,  beginning  to 
hum  something  else.  It  was,  "  The  tree's  early 
leaf-buds  were  bursting  their  brown."  He 
knew  it  at  once,  although  she  did  not  quite 
remember  either  the  words  or  the  tune,  and 

1  Peasants  wear  an  under-garnient  high  in  the  neck  with  long 
sleeves. 


ARNE.  171 

made  many  mistakes.  The  stanza  she  knew 
best  was  the  last  one,  therefore  she  often  re- 
peated  it ;  but  she  sang  it  thus  :  — 

"  The  tree  bore  its  berries,  so  mellow  and  red: 
'  May  I  gather  thy  berries  ?  '  a  sweet  maiden  said. 
'Yes,  dear;  all  thou  canst  see; 
Take  them ;  all  are  for  thee ;  ' 
Said  the  tree  —  trala-lala,  trala,  lala  —  said."  * 

Then  suddenly  she  sprang  up,  scattering  the 
flowers  all  around  her,  and  sang  aloud,  so  that 
the  tune,  as  it  quivered  through  the  air,  could 
easily  be  heard  all  the  way  over  to  Boen.  And 
then  she  ran  away.  Should  he  call  after  her  ? 
No!  There  she  went  skipping  over  the  hills, 
singing,  trolling  ;  her  hat  fell  off,  she  picked  it 
up  again ;  and  then  she  stood  still  in  the  midst 
of  the  tallest  grass. 

"  Shall  I  call  after  her  ?  She  is  looking 
round  !  " 

He  quickly  stooped  down.  It  was  a  long 
while  before  he  dared  peep  forth  again  ;  at  first 
he  only  raised  his  head ;  he  could  not  see  her: 
then  he  drew  himself  up  on  his  knees,  and  still 
could  not  see  her  ;  finally,  he  got  all  the  way 
up.     No,  she  was  gone  ! 

He  no  longer  wanted  to  go  to  the  parsonage. 
He  wanted  nothing! 

1  Adapted  to  the  original  metre  from  the  translation  of  Augusta 
Plesner  and  S.  Rugeley -Powers. 


172  ARNE. 

Later  lie  sat  where  she  had  been  sitting,  still 
sat  there  until  the  sun  drew  near  the  meridian. 
The  lake  was  not  ruffled  by  a  single  ripple ;  the 
smoke  from  the  gards  began  to  curl  upward ; 
the  land-rails,  one  after  another,  had  ceased 
their  call ;  the  small  birds,  though,  continued 
their  sportive  gambols,  but  withdrew  to  the 
wood ;  the  dew  was  gone  and  the  grass  looked 
sober  ;  not  a  breath  of  wind  stirred  the  leaves  ; 
it  was  about  an  hour  from  noon.  Arne  scarcely 
knew  how  it  was  that  he  found  himself  seated 
there,  weaving  together  a  little  song ;  a  sweet 
melody  offered  itself  for  it,  and  into  a  heart 
curiously  full  of  all  that  was  gentle,  the  tune 
came  and  went  until  the  picture  was  complete. 
He  sang  the  song  calmly  as  he  had  made  it :  — 

"  He  went  in  the  forest  the  whole  day  long, 
The  whole  day  long ; 
For  there  he  had  heard  such  a  wonderful  song, 
A  wonderful  song. 

"  He  fashioned  a  flute  from  a  willow  spray, 
A  willow  spray, 
To  see  if  within  it  the  sweet  tune  lay, 
The  sweet  tune  lay. 

"  It  whispered  and  told  him  its  name  at  last, 
Its  name  at  last ; 
But  then,  while  lie  listened,  away  it  passed, 
Away  it  passed. 

"  But  oft  when  he  slumbered,  again  it  stole, 
Again  it  stole, 


ARNE. 

With  touches  of  love  upon  his  soul, 
Upon  his  soul. 

"  Then  he  tried  to  catch  it,  and  keep  it  fast, 
And  keep  it  fast; 
But  he  woke,  and  away  in  the  night  it  passed, 
In  the  night  it  passed. 

"  '  My  Lord,  let  me  pass  in  the  night,  I  pray, 
In  the  night,  I  pray ; 
For  the  tune  has  taken  my  heart  away, 
My  heart  away.' 

"  Then  answered  the  Lord,  'It  is  thy  friend, 
It  is  thy  friend, 
Though  not  for  an  hour  shall  thy  longing  end, 
Thy  longing  end ; 

"  '  And  all  the  others  are  nothing  to  thee, 
Nothing  to  thee, 
To  this  that  thou  seekest  and  never  shalt  see, 
Never  shalt  see.'  "  1 

l  Translated  by  Augusta  Plesner  and  S.  Eugeley-Powere. 


173 


CHAPTER  XV. 

It  was  a  Sunday  evening  in  midsummer ; 
the  priest  had  returned  from  church,  and  Mar- 
git  had  been  sitting  with  him  until  it  was  nearly 
seven  o'clock.  Now  she  took  her  leave,  and 
hastened  down  the  steps  and  out  into  the  yard, 
for  there  she  had  just  caught  sight  of  Eli  Boen, 
who  had  been  playing  for  some  time  with  the 
priest's  son  and  her  own  brother. 

"  Good  evening  !  "  said  Margit,  standing  still, 
"  and  God  bless  you  all !  " 

"  Good  evening  !  "  replied  Eli,  blushing  crim- 
son, and  showing  a  desire  to  stop  playing,  al- 
though the  boys  urged  her  to  continue  ;  but 
she  begged  to  be  excused,  and  they  had  to  let 
her  go  for  that  evening. 

"It  seems  to  me  I  ought  to  know  you,"  said 
Margit. 

"  That  is  quite  likely,"  was  the  reply. 

"  This  surely  never  can  be  Eli  Boen  ?  " 

Yes,  it  was  she. 

"  Oh,  dear  me  !  So  you  are  Eli  Boen !  Yes, 
now  I  see  you  are  like  your  mother." 


ARNE.  175 

Eli's  auburn  hair  had  become  unfastened,  so 
that  it  floated  carelessly  about  her ;  her  face  was 
as  hot  and  as  red  as  a  berry,  her  bosom  heaved, 
she  could  not  speak,  and  laughed  because  she 
was  so  out  of  breath. 

"  Yes,  that  is  the  way  with  young  people." 
Mare-it  looked  at  Eli  with  satisfaction  as  she 
spoke. 

"  I  suppose  you  do  not  know  me  ?  " 
Eli  had  no  doubt  wanted  to  ask  who  she  was, 
but  could  not  command  the  courage  to  do  so, 
because  the  other  was  so  much  older  than  she  ; 
now  she  said  that  she  did  not  remember  having 
seen  her  before. 

"  Well,  to  be  sure,  that  is  scarcely  to  be  ex- 
pected ;  old  folks  seldom  get  out.  You  may 
perhaps  know  my  son,  Arne  Kampen.  I  am 
his  mother."  She  stole  a  sly  glance,  as  she 
spoke,  at  Eli,  on  whom  these  words  wrought  a 
considerable  change.  "  I  am  inclined  to  think 
he  worked  over  at  Boen  once,  did  he  not  ?  " 

Yes,  it  was  Eli's  impression,  too,  that  he  had 
done  so. 

"  The  weather  is  fine  this  evening.  We 
turned  our  hay  to-day,  and  got  it  in  before  I 
left  home  ;  it  is  really  blessed  weather." 

"  There  will  surely  be  a  good  hay-harvest  this 
year,"  Eli  observed. 


17G  ARNE. 

"  Yes,  you  may  well  say  so.  I  suppose  every- 
thing looks  splendidly  over  at  Boen." 

"  They  are  through  harvesting  there." 

"  Oh,  of  course ;  plenty  of  help,  stirring  peo- 
ple.    Are  you  going  home  this  evening  ?  " 

No,  she  did  not  intend  to  do  so.  They  talked 
together  about  one  thing  and  another  and  grad- 
ually became  so  well  acquainted  that  Margit 
felt  at  liberty  to  ask  Eli  to  walk  a  short  dis- 
tance with  her. 

"  Could  you  not  keep  me  company  a  few 
steps?  "  said  she.  "  I  so  seldom  find  any  one  to 
talk  with,  and  I  dare  say  it  will  make  no  differ- 
ence to  you." 

Eli  excused  herself  because  she  had  not  her 
jacket  on. 

"  Well,  I  know,  it  is  really  a  shame  to  ask 
such  a  thing  the  first  time  I  meet  a  person  ;  but 
then  one  has  to  bear  with  old  folks." 

Eli  said  she  was  quite  willing  to  go,  she  only 
wanted  to  fetch  her  jacket. 

It  was  a  close-fitting  jacket ;  when  it  was 
hooked,  she  looked  as  if  she  wore  a  complete 
dress  ;  but  now  she  only  fastened  the  two  low- 
est hooks,  she  was  so  warm.  Her  fine  linen  had 
a  small  turned  down  collar,  and  was  fastened 
at  the  throat  with  a  silver  button,  in  the  form 
of  a  bird  with  outspread  wings.     Such  a  one 


ARNE.  177 

tailor  Nils  had  worn  the  first  time  Margit  Kam- 
pen  had  danced  with  him. 

"  What  a  handsome  button,"  she  remarked, 
looking  at  it. 

"  My  mother  gave  it  to  me,"  said  Eli. 

"  Yes,  so  I  thought,"  and  Margit  helped  the 
girl  adjust  it  as  she  spoke. 

Now  they  walked  on  along  the  road.  The 
new-mown  hay  was  lying  about  in  heaps.  Mar- 
git took  up  a  handful,  smelled  it,  and  thought 
it  was  good.  She  asked  about  the  live  stock  at 
the  parsonage,  was  led  thereby  to  inquire  about 
that  at  Boen,  and  then  told  how  much  they 
had  at  Kampen. 

"  The  gard  has  prospered  finely  of  late  years, 
and  it  can  be  made  as  much  larger  as  we  our- 
selves wish.  It  feeds  twelve  milch  cows  now, 
and  could  feed  more  ;  but  Arne  reads  a  great 
many  books,  and  manages  according  to  them, 
and  so  he  must  have  his  cows  fed  in  a  first- 
rate  way." 

Eli  made  no  reply  to  all  this,  as  was  quite 
natural ;  but  Margit  asked  her  how  old  she  was. 
She  was  nineteen. 

"  Have  you  taken  any  part  in  the   house- 
work ?     You  look  so  dainty,  I  suppose  it  has 
not  been  much." 
12 


178  ARNE. 

Oh,  yes,  she  had  helped  in  various  ways,  es- 
pecially of  late. 

"  Well,  it  is  a  good  thing  to  become  accus- 
tomed to  a  little  of  everything ;  if  one  should 
get  a  large  house  of  one's  own,  there  might  be 
many  things  to  be  done.  But,  to  be  sure,  when 
one  finds  good  help  already  in  the  house,  it 
does  not  matter  so  very  much." 

Eli  now  thought  she  ought  to  turn  back,  for 
they  had  gone  far  beyond  the  parsonage  lands. 

"  It  will  be  some  time  yet  before  the  sun 
sets ;  it  would  be  kind  if  you  would  chat  with 
me  a  little  longer."     And  Eli  went  on. 

Then  Margit  began  to  talk  about  Arne.  "  I 
do  not  know  if  you  are  very  well  acquainted 
with  him.  He  can  teach  you  something  about 
everything.  Bless  me  !  how  much  that  boy  has 
read  !  " 

Eli  confessed  that  she  was  aware  he  had  read 
a  great  deal. 

"  Oh,  yes  ;  that  is  really  the  least  that  can 
be  said  of  him.  Why,  his  conduct  to  his  mother 
all  his  days  is  something  far  beyond  that.  If 
the  old  saying  is  true,  that  one  who  is  good  to 
his  mother  is  sure  to  be  good  to  his  wife,  the 
girl  Arne  chooses  will  not  have  very  much  to 
grumble  about.  What  is  it  you  are  looking 
for,  child  ?  " 


ARNE.  179 

"  I  only  lost  a  little  twig  I  had  in  my  hand." 

They  were  both  silent  after  this,  and  walked 
on  without  looking  at  each  other. 

"  He  has  such  strange  ways,"  began  the 
mother,  presently;  "he  was  so  often  frightened 
when  he  was  a  child  that  he  got  into  the  habit 
of  thinking  everything  over  to  himself,  and 
such  folks  never  know  how  to  put  themselves 
forward." 

Now  Eli  insisted  on  turning  back,  but  Mar- 
git  assured  her  that  it  was  only  a  short  distance 
now  to  Kampen,  and  see  Kampen  she  must,  as 
she  was  so  near.  But  Eli  thought  it  was  too 
late  that  day. 

"  There  is  always  some  one  who  can  go  home 
with  you,"  said  Margit. 

"  No,  no,"  promptly  replied  Eli,  and  was 
about  to  leave. 

"  To  be  sure,  Arne  is  not  at  home,"  said 
Margit ;  "  so  it  will  not  be  he  ;  but  there  will 
be  sure  to  be  some  one  else." 

Now  Eli  had  less  objection  to  going;  besides, 
she  wanted  very  much  to  see  Kampen.  "  If 
only  it  does  not  grow  too  late,"  said  she. 

"  Well,  if  we  stand  here  much  longer  talking 
about  it,  I  suppose  it  may  grow  too  late,"  and 
they  went  on. 

"You  have  read  a  great  deal,  I  dare  say; 
you  who  were  brought  up  at  the  priest's  ?  " 


180  ARNE. 

Yes,  Eli  had  read  a  good  deal. 

"  That  will  be  useful,"  Margit  suggested, 
"  when  you  are  married  to  one  who  knows  less 
than  you." 

Eli  thought  she  would  never  be  married  to 
such  a  person. 

"  Ah,  well,  it  would  perhaps  not  be  best 
either ;  but  in  this  parish  there  is  so  little 
learning." 

Eli  asked  where  the  smoke  rising  yonder  in 
the  wood  came  from. 

"  It  comes  from  the  new  houseman's  place 
belonging  to  Kampen.  A  man  called  Upland 
Knut  lives  there.  He  was  alone  in  the  world, 
and  so  Arne  gave  him  that  place  to  clear.  He 
knows  what  it  is  to  be  lonely,  my  poor  Arne." 

Soon  they  reached  an  ascent  whence  the  gard 
could  be  seen.  The  sun  shone  full  in  their 
faces  ;  they  held  up  their  hands  to  shade  their 
eyes  and  gazed  down  at  Kampen.  It  lay  in  the 
midst  of  a  plain,  the  houses  red  painted  and 
with  white  window-frames  ;  the  grass  in  the 
surrounding  meadows  had  been  mown,  the  hay 
might  still  be  seen  in  heaps  here  and  there,  the 
grain-fields  lay  green  and  rich  among  the  pale 
meadows  ;  over  by  the  cow-house  all  was  stir 
and  bustle :  the  cows,  sheep,  and  goats  were 
just  coming  home,   their  bells  were  tinkling, 


ARNE.  181 

the  clogs  were  barking,  the  milk-maids  shout- 
ing, while  above  all  rose  with  awful  din  the 
roar  of  the  force  in  the  Kamp  gorge.  The 
longer  Eli  looked,  the  more  completely  this 
grand  tune  rilled  her  ears,  and  at  last  it  seemed 
so  appalling  to  her  that  her  heart  throbbed 
wildly  ;  it  roared  and  thundered  through  her 
head  until  she  grew  bewildered,  and  at  the 
same  time  felt  so  warm  and  tender  that  invol- 
untarily she  took  such  short,  hesitating  steps, 
that  Margit  begged  her  to  walk  a  little  faster. 

She  started.  "I  never  heard  anything  like 
that  waterfall,"  said  she;  "  I  am  almost  afraid 
of  it." 

"  You  will  soon  get  used  to  it,"  said  the 
mother  ;  "  at  last  you  would  even  miss  it  if 
you  could  not  hear  it." 

"  Dear  me  !  do  you  think  so  ?  "  cried  Eli. 

"  Well,  you  will  see,"  said  Margit,  smil- 
ing. 

"  Come  now,  let  us  first  look  at  the  cat- 
tle," she  continued,  turning  off  from  the  main 
road.  "  These  trees  on  each  side  Nils  planted. 
He  wanted  to  have  everything  nice,  Nils  did  ; 
that  is  what  Arne  likes  too ;  look !  there  you 
can  see  the  garden  my  boy  has  laid  out." 

"  Oh,  how  pretty  !  "  cried  Eli,  running  over 
to  the  garden  fence.     She  had  often  seen  Kam- 


1    12  AENE. 

pen,  but  only  from  a  distance,  where  the  garden 
was  not  visible. 

"  We  will  look  at  that  after  a  while,"  said 
Margit. 

Eli  hastily  glanced  through  the  windows,  as 
she  went  past  the  house ;  there  was  no  one  in- 
side. 

They  stationed  themselves  on  the  barn-bridge 
and  watched  the  cows  as  they  passed  lowing 
into  the  stable.  Margit  named  them  to  Eli, 
told  how  much  milk  each  one  gave,  and  which 
of  them  calved  in  the  summer,  which  did  not. 
The  sheep  were  counted  and  let  into  the  fold  ; 
they  were  of  a  large,  foreign  breed ;  Arne  had 
raised  them  from  two  lambs  he  got  from  the 
south.  "  He  gives  much  attention  to  all  such 
things,  although  you  would  not  think  it  of 
him." 

They  now  went  into  the  barn,  and  examined 
the  hay  that  had  been  housed,  and  Eli  had 
to  smell  it  —  "  for  such  hay  is  not  to  be  found 
everywhere."  Margit  pointed  through  the 
barn-hatch  over  the  fields,  and  told  what  each 
one  yielded  and  how  much  was  sown  of  each 
kind  of  seed. 

They  went  out  toward  the  house  ;  but  Eli, 
who  had  not  spoken  a  word  in  reply  to  all 
that  had  been  said,  as  they  passed  by  the  gar- 


ARNE.  183 

den,  asked  if  she  might  go  into  it.  And  when 
leave  had  been  given  her  to  go,  she  begged  to 
be  allowed  to  pluck  a  flower  or  two.  There 
was  a  little  bench  away  in  one  corner  ;  she 
went  and  sat  down  on  it,  only  to  try  it,  ap- 
parently, for  she  rose  at  once. 

"  We  must  hurry  now,  if  we  would  not  be 
too  late,"  said  Margit,  standing  in  the  door. 
And  now  they  went  in.  Margit  asked  Eli  if 
she  should  offer  her  some  refreshments  on  this 
her  first  visit ;  but  Eli  blushed  and  hastily  de- 
clined. Then  the  girl's  eyes  wandered  all 
around  the  room  they  had  entered ;  it  was 
where  the  family  sat  in  the  day-time,  and  the 
windows  opened  on  the  road  ;  the  room  was 
not  large  but  it  was  cozy,  and  there  was  a 
clock  and  a  stove  in  it.  On  the  wall  hung 
Xils's  fiddle,  dingy  and  old,  but  with  new 
strings.  Near  it  also  hung  a  couple  of  guns 
belonging  to  Arne,  an  English  angling-rod  and 
other  rare  things  which  the  mother  took  down 
and  showed  to  Eli,  who  looked  at  them  and 
handled  them.  The  room  was  without  paint, 
for  Arne  disliked  it  ;  nor  was  there  any  paint- 
ing in  the  room  looking  toward  the  Kamp 
gorge,  with  the  fresh  green  mountains  directly- 
opposite  and  the  blue  ones  in  the  background  ; 
uliis  latter  room,  —  which  was  in  the  new  part 


184  ARNE. 

of  the  building,  as  was  the  entire  half  of  the 
house  it  was  in,  —  was  larger  and  prettier  than 
the  first.  The  two  smaller  rooms  in  the  wing 
were  painted,  for  there  the  mother  was  to  live 
when  she  was  old,  and  Arne  had  brought  a 
wife  into  the  house.  They  went  into  the  kitch- 
en, the  store-house,  the  bake-house,  Eli  spoke 
not  a  single  word  ;  indeed,  she  viewed  every- 
thing about  her  as  though  from  afar  off;  only 
when  anything  was  held  out  for  her  inspec- 
tion she  touched  it,  but  very  daintily.  Mar- 
git,  who  had  kept  up  an  unbroken  stream  of 
chatter  the  whole  way,  now  led  her  into  the 
passage  again  ;  they  must  go  and  take  a  look 
up-stairs. 

There  also  were  well-arranged  rooms,  cor- 
responding with  those  below  ;  but  they  were 
new  and  had  scarcely  yet  been  occupied,  ex- 
cept one,  which  looked  toward  the  gorge.  In 
these  rooms  "were  kept  all  sorts  of  articles 
which  were  not  in  daily  household  use.  Here 
hung  a  whole  lot  of  robes,  together  with  other 
bedclothes ;  the  mother  took  hold  of  them,  lifted 
them  up,  and  now  and  then  insisted  on  having 
Eli  do  the  same.  Meanwhile,  it  actually  seemed 
as  though  the  young  girl  were  gaining  a  little 
courage,  or  else  her  pleasure  in  these  things  in- 
creased ;  for  to  some  of  them  she  went  back  a 


ARNE.  185 

second  time,  asked  questions  about  them,  and 
became  more  and  more  interested. 

Finally  the  mother  said,  "  Now  at  last  we 
will  go  into  Arne's  own  room  ;  "  and  then  they 
went  into  the  room  overlooking  the  Kamp 
gorge.  Once  more  the  awful  din  of  the  force 
smote  upon  their  ears,  for  the  window  was 
open.  They  were  up  so  high  tliat  they  could 
see  the  spi'ay  rising  between  the  mountains,  but 
not  the  force  itself,  save  in  one  spot  farther  on, 
where  a  fragment  had  fallen  from  the  cliff,  just 
where  the  torrent,  with  all  its  might,  took  its 
final  leap  into  the  depths  below.  Fresh  turf 
covered  the  upward  turned  side  of  this  fallen 
piece  of  rock,  a  few  fir  cones  had  buried  them- 
selves in  it,  and  sent  forth  a  growth  of  trees 
withjiheir  roots  in  the  crevices.  The  wind 
had  tugged  at  and  shaken  the  trees,  the  force 
had  washed  them  so  completely  that  there  was 
not  a  branch  four  ells  from  the  roots;  they 
were  crooked  in  the  knees,  their  boughs 
knotted  and  gnarled,  yet  they  kept  their  foot- 
ing, and  shot  far  up  between  the  rocky  walls. 
This  was  the  first  thing  Eli  noticed  from  the 
window;  the  next,  the  dazzling  white  snow- 
capped peaks  rising  above  the  green  mountains. 
She  turned  her  eyes  away,  let  them  wander 
over  the   peaceful,  fruitful   fields,   and  finally 


186  AKNE. 

about  the  room  where  she  stood  ;  the  roar  of 
the  force  had  hitherto  prevented  this. 

How  calm  and  cheerful  it  was  within,  com- 
pared with  the  scene  without.  She  did  not 
look  at  any  single  article,  because  one  blended 
into  the  other,  and  most  of  them  were  new  to 
her,  for  Arne  had  centred  his  affections  in  this 
room,  and,  simple  as  it  was,  it  was  artistic  in 
almost  every  particular.  It  seemed  as  though 
the  sound  of  his  songs  came  floating  toward 
her,  while  she  stood  there,  or  as  though  he  him- 
self smiled  at  her  from  every  object.  The  first 
thing  her  eyes  singled  out  in  the  room,  was  a 
broad,  handsomely  carved  book-shelf.  There 
were  so  many  books  on  it  that  she  did  not  be- 
lieve the  priest  had  more.  A  pretty  cabinet 
was  the  next  thing  she  noticed.  Here  he^  kept 
many  rare  things,  his  mother  said.  Here,  too, 
he  had  his  money,  she  added,  in  a  whisper. 
They  had  twice  had  property  left  to  them,  she 
told  afterwards ;  they  would  have  one  more  in- 
heritance besides,  if  things  went  as  they  should. 
"  But  money  is  not  the  best  thing  in  the  world, 
after  all.     Arne  may  get  what  is  far  better." 

There  were  many  little  trinkets  in  the  room 
which  were  interesting  to  examine,  and  Eli 
looked  at  them  all,  as  happy  as  a  child. 

Margit  patted  her  on  the  shoulder,  saying,  as 


AKXE.  187 

she  looked  brightly  into  her  eyes,  "  I  have 
never  seen  you  before  to-day,  my  child,  but  I 
am  already  very  fond  of  you."  Before  Eli  had 
time  to  feel  embarrassed,  Margit  pulled  at  her 
dress,  and  said,  quite  softly,  "  You  see  that  lit- 
tle red  chest ;  there  is  something  nice  in  that, 
I  can  tell  you." 

Eli  looked  at  the  chest :  it  was  a  small,  square 
one,  which  she  at  once  longed  to  call  her  own. 

"  Arne  does  not  want  me  to  know  what  is  in 
that  chest,"  whispered  the  mother,  "  and  he  al- 
ways keeps  the  key  hid."  She  walked  up  to 
some  clothes  hanging  on  the  wall,  took  down  a 
velvet  waistcoat,  felt  in  the  watch-pocket,  and 
there  found  the  key.  "  Come,  now,  you  shall 
see,"  she  whispered. 

Eli  did  not  think  the  mother  was  doing 
quite  right,  but  women  are  women,  —  and  these 
two  now  crossed  softly  over  to  the  chest  and 
knelt  in  front  of  it.  As  the  mother  raised  the 
lid,  so  pleasant  a  perfume  rose  towai'd  them  that 
Eli  clapped  her  hands  even  before  she  had  seen 
anything.  Spread  over  the  top  was  a  kerchief 
which  the  mother  took  away.  "  Now  you  shall 
see,"  she  whispered,  as  she  took  up  a  fine,  black 
silk  neckerchief,  such  a  one  as  men  do  not  wear. 
"  It  looks  just  as  if  it  were  for  a  girl,"  said  the 
mother.     "  Here  is  another,"  she  added. 


188  ARNE. 

Eli  could  not  help  taking  bold  of  this ;  but 
when  the  mother  insisted  upon  trying  it  on  her, 
she  declined,  and  bung  her  head.  The  mother 
carefully  folded  them  up  again. 

"  See ! "  she  then  said,  taking  up  some  pretty 
silk  ribbons;  "everything  here  looks  as  if  it 
were  meant  for  a  girl." 

Eli  grew  red  as  fire,  but  not  a  sound  escaped 
her ;  her  bosom  heaved,  her  eyes  had  a  shy 
look,  otherwise  she  stood  immovable. 

"  Here  are  more  things  still  !  "  The  mother 
took  hold  of  a  beautiful  black  dress  pattern,  as 
she  spoke.  "  This  is  fine  goods,  I  dare  say," 
said  she,  as  she  held  it  up  to  the  light. 

Eli's  hands  trembled,  when  the  mother  asked 
her  to  take  hold  of  the  cloth,  she  felt  the  blood 
rushing  to  her  head ;  she  would  gladly  have 
turned  away,  but  this  was  not  easy  to  do. 

"  He  has  bought  something  every  time  he 
has  been  to  town,"  said  the  mother. 

Eli  could  scarcely  control  herself  any  longer  ; 
her  eyes  roamed  about  the  chest  from  one  arti- 
cle to  another,  and  back  again  to  the  dress 
goods  ;  she,  in  fact,  saw  nothing  else.  But  the 
mother  persisted,  and  the  last  thing  she  took 
up  was  wrapped  in  paper  ;  they  slowly  un- 
wrapped it;  this  became  attractive  again.  Eli 
grew  eager ;  it  proved  to  be  a  pair  of  small 


ARNE.  189 

shoes.  They  had  never  seen  anything  like 
these,  either  one  of  them ;  the  mother  won- 
dered how  they  could  be  made.  Eli  said  noth- 
ing, but  when  she  went  to  touch  the  shoes, 
all  her  fingers  made  marks  on  them ;  she  felt  so 
ashamed  that  she  came  very  near  bursting  into 
tears.  She  longed  most  of  all  to  take  her 
leave,  but  she  dared  not  speak,  nor  dare  she 
do  anything  to  make  the  mother  look  up. 

Margit  was  wholly  occupied  with  her  own 
thoughts.  "  Does  it  not  look  just  as  if  he  had 
bought  them  one  by  one  for  some  one  he  had 
not  the  courage  to  give  them  "to  ?  "  said  she,  as 
she  put  each  article  back  in  the  place  where 
she  had  found  it ;  she  must  have  had  practice 
in  so  doing.  "  Now  let  us  see  what  there  is  in 
this  little  box,"  she  added,  softly  opening  it,  as 
though  now  they  were  going  to  find  something 
really  choice. 

There  lay  a  buckle,  broad  enough  for  a  belt ; 
that  was  the  first  thing  she  showed  Eli ;  the 
next  was  two  gold  rings,  tied  together,  and 
then  the  girl  caught  sight  of  a  velvet  hymn-book 
with  silver  clasps  ;  further  she  could  not  look, 
for  on  the.  silver  of  the  book  was  engraved,  in 
small  letters,  "  Eli,  Baardsdatter  Boen."  1 

Margit  called  her  attention  to  something,  got 
1  The  Norse  word  (latter  means  daughter. 


190  ARXE. 

no  reply,  but  saw  that  tear  after  tear  was  trick- 
ling clown  on  the  silk  kerchief,  and  spreading 
over  it.  Then  the  mother  laid  down  the  brooch 
she  held  in  her  hand,  closed  the  little  box, 
turned  round  and  clasped  Eli  in  her  arms. 
The  daughter  wept  on  her  shoulder,  and  the 
mother  wept  over  her,  but  neither  of  them 
spoke  a  word. 

A  little  while  later,  Eli  was  walking  alone 
in  the  garden  :  the  mother  had  gone  into  the 
kitchen  to  prepare  something  good  for  supper, 
for  now  Arne  would  soon  be  home.  By  and 
by,  Margit  came  out  into  the  garden  to  look 
for  her  young  friend,  and  found  her  sitting 
writing  in  the  sand.  As  the  mother  joined 
her,  Eli  quickly  smoothed  the  sand  over  what 
she  had  written,  —  looked  up  and  smiled  ;  she 
had  been  weeping. 

"  There  is  nothing  to  cry  about,  my  child,"' 
said  Margit,  and  gave  her  a  pat. 

They  saw  a  black  object  moving  between  the 
bushes  on  the  road.  Eli  stole  into  the  house, 
the  mother  followed  her.  Here  a  bounteous 
repasl  was  awaiting  them  :  cream  pudding, 
smoked  meat,  and  cakes;  but  Eli  had  no  eyes 
for  these  tilings;  she  crossed  the  floor  to  the 
corner  where  the   clock   stood,  sat  down    on  a 


ARNE.  191 

chair  close  to  the  wall,  and  trembled  if  she 
only  heard  a  cat  stir.  The  mother  stood  by 
the  table.  Firm  steps  were  heard  on  the  flag- 
stones, a  short,  light  step  in  the  passage,  the 
door  was  gently  opened,  and  Arne  came  in. 

The  first  object  his  eyes  lighted  on  was  Eli 
in  the  clock  corner  ;  he  let  go  of  the  door  and 
stood  still.  This  made  Eli  yet  more  embar- 
rassed ;  she  got  up,  regretted  at  once  having 
done  so,  and  turned  towards  the  wall. 

"Are  you  here?"  said  Arne,  softly,  blushing 
crimson. 

Eli  shaded  her  eyes  with  one  hand,  as  one 
does  when  the  sun  shines  too  full  in  the  face. 

"How — ?"  He  could  get  no  farther,  but 
he  advanced  a  step  or  two. 

She  put  her  hand  down  again,  turned  toward 
him,  then,  bowiug  her  head,  she  burst  into 
tears. 

"  God  bless  you,  Eli !  "  said  he,  and  drew  his 
arm  around  her ;  she  nestled  close  up  to  him. 
He  whispered  something  in  her  ear  ;  she  made 
no  reply,  but  clasped  her  hands  about  his  neck. 

They  stood  thus  for  a  long  time,  and  not  a 
sound  was  heard  save  the  roar  of  the  force, 
sending  forth  its  eternal  song.  By  and  by 
some  one  was  heard  weeping  near  the  table ; 
Arne  looked  up  :  it  was  the  mother. 


192  ARNE. 

"  Now  I  am  sure  you  will  not  leave  me, 
Arne,"  said  she,  approaching  him.  She  wept 
freely,  but  it  did  her  good,  she  said. 

When  Arne  and  Eli  walked  home  together 
in  the  bright  summer  evening,  they  did  not  talk 
much  about  their  new-born  happiness.  They  let 
Nature  herself  take  the  lead  in  the  conversa- 
tion, —  so  quiet,  bright,  and  grand,  she  seemed, 
as  she  accompanied  them.  But  it  was  on  his 
way  back  to  Kampen  from  this  their  first 
summer-night's  walk,  with  his  face  turned  to- . 
ward  the  rising  sun,  that  he  laid  the  founda- 
tions of  a  poem,  which  he  was  then  in  no  frame 
of  mind  to  construct,  but  which,  later,  when  it 
was  finished,  became  for  a  while  his  daily 
song.     It  ran  thus  :  — 

"  I  hoped  to  become  something  great  one  day; 
I  thought  it  would  be  when  I  got  away. 
Each  thought  that  my  bosom  entered 
On  far-off  journeys  was  centred. 
A  maiden  then  into  my  eyes  did  look ; 

My  rovingssoon  lost  their  pleasure. 
The  loftiest  aim  my  heart  can  brook 

Is  her  to  proclaim  my  treasure. 

"  I  hoped  to  become  something  great  one  day; 
I  thought  it  would  be  when  I  got  away. 
To  meet  with  the  great  in  learning 
Intensely  my  heart  was  yearning. 
She  taught  me,  she  did,  for  she  spoke  a  word : 
'  The  best  gift  of  God's  bestowing 


ARNE.  193 

Is  not  to  be  called  a  distinguished  lord, 
But  ever  a  man  to  be  growing. 

"  I  hoped  to  become  something  great  one  day ; 
I  thought  it  would  be  when  I  got  away. 
My  home  seemed  so  cold,  neglected, 
I  felt  like  a  stranger  suspected. 
When  her  I  discovered,  then  love  I  did  see 

In  every  glance  that  found  me; 
Wherever  I  turned  friends  waited  for  me, 
And  life  became  new  around  me." 

There  came  afterwards  many  a  summer  even- 
ing walk,  followed,  by  many  a  song.  One  of 
these  must  be  recorded  :  — 

"  The  cause  of  this  all  is  beyond  my  knowing; 
No  storm  there  has  been  and  no  floods  have  been  flowing. 
A  sparkling  and  glittering  brook,  it  would  seem, 
Has  poured  itself  into  the  broader  stream 
Which  constantly  growing  seeks  the  ocean. 

"  There  is  something  we  can  from  our  lives  not  sever; 
In  need  it  is  near  and  forsakes  us  never,  — 
A  power  that  draws,  a  loving  breast, 
Which  sadness,  shyness,  and  all  unrest 
Can  gather  in  peace  in  a  bridal  present. 

"  Could  I  but  by  spirits  through  life  be  attended, 
As  pure  as  the  thought  which  has  now  me  befriended ! 
The  ordering  spirit  of  God  it  was. 
He  ruleth  the  world  with  sacred  laws. 
Toward  goodness  eternal  I  am  progressing." 

But  perhaps  none  of  them  better  expressed 
his  fervent  gratitude  than  the  following :  — 

13 


194  ARNE. 

"  The  power  that  gave  me  my  little  song 

Has  caused  that  as  rain  has  been  my  sadness, 
And  that  as  sunshine  has  been  my  gladness, 
The  spring-time  wants  of  my  soul  along. 
Whate'er  betided 
It  did  no  harm  ; 
My  song  all  guided 
To  love  so  warm. 

"  The  power  that  gave  me  my  little  song 

Has  given  me  friendship  for  all  that 's  yearning. 
For  freedom's  blessings  my  blood  is  burning; 
The  foe  I  am  of  every  wrong. 
I  sought  my  station, 
Spite  every  storm. 
And  found  salvation 
In  love  so  warm. 

"  The  power  that  gave  me  my  little  song 
Must  make  me  able  to  sing  the  others, 
And  now  and  then  to  make  glad  my  brothers 
Whom  I  may  meet  in  the  worldly  throng, — 
For  there  was  never 
A  sweeter  charm 
Than  singing  ever 
In  love  so  warm." 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

It  was  late  in  the  autumn  ;  the  harvesters 
were  at  work  housing  the  grain.  The  day  was 
clear,  it  had  rained  during  the  night ;  and  in 
the  morning,  therefore,  the  air  was  as  mild  as 
in  summer-time.  It  was  a  Saturday,  and  yet 
many  boats  were  making  their  way  across 
Black  Water  toward  the  church;  the  men,  in 
their  shirt  sleeves,  were  rowing;  the  women 
sat  in  the  stern,  with  light-colored  kerchiefs  on 
their  heads.  A  still  greater  number  of  boats 
were  steering  over  to  Boen,  in  order  to  move 
away  from  there  later  in  grand  procession,  for 
on  this  day  Baard  Boen  gave  a  wedding  for  his 
daughter  Eli  and  Arne  Nils'  son  Kanrpen. 

All  the  doors  were  open  ;  people  were  going 
in  and  out ;  children,  with  pieces  of  cake  in 
their  hands,  stood  about  the  yard,  afraid  of 
their  new  clothes,  and  looking  shyly  at  one- 
another;  an  old  woman  sat  upon  the  store- 
house steps  alone,  —  it  was  Margit  Kampen. 
She  wore  a  large  silver  ring,  with  several  small 
rings  fastened  to  the  upper  silver  plate;   now 


196  ARNE. 

and  then  she  looked  at  it ;  Nils  had  given  it  to 
her  the  day  of  their  wedding  and  she  had  never 
worn  it  since. 

The  man  who  presided  at  the  feast,  and  the 
two  young  groomsmen,  the  priest's  son  and 
Eli's  brother,  went  about  in  the  two  or  three 
rooms,  offering  refreshments  to  the  wedding 
guests  as  they  arrived  to  be  present  on  this 
great  occasion.  Up-stairs  in  Eli's  room  were 
the  bride,  the  priest's  wife,  and  Mathilde,  — 
the  last-named  had  come  from  town  for  the 
sole  purpose  of  decking  the  bride ;  this  the 
girls  had  promised  each  other  from  their  child- 
hood. Arne  — wearing  a  broadcloth  suit,  with 
close-fitting  roundabout  and  with  a  collar  that 
Eli  had  made  —  stood  in  one  of  the  down-stairs 
rooms  by  the  window  on  which  Eli  had  written 
"  Arne." 

Outside  in  the  passage  two  pei*sons  met  as 
they  came  each  from  some  duty  of  the  day. 
One  of  them  was  on  his  way  from  the  landing- 
place,  where  he  had  been  helping  to  put  the 
church  boats  in  order  ;  he  wore  a  black  broad- 
cloth roundabout,  with  blue  wadmal  trousers, 
whose  dye  rubbed  off,  so  that  his  hands  were 
blue  ;  his  white  collar  looked  well  with  his  fair 
face  and  long  light  hair ;  his  high  forehead  was 
calm  ;  about  the  mouth  played  a  smile.     It  was 


ARNE.  197 

Baard.  Slie  whom  he  met  in  the  passage  was 
just  coming  from  the  kitchen.  She  was  dressed 
for  church,  was  tall  and  slender,  and  walked 
with  a  firm  though  hurried  step  through  the 
door.  When  she  met  Baard  she  paused,  and 
her  mouth  drew  up  to  one  side.  It  was  Birgit, 
his  wife.  Each  had  something  to  say,  but  it 
only  found  expression  through  both  standing 
still.  Baard  was  the  most  embarrassed  of  the 
two ;  he  smiled  more  and  more,  but  it  was  his 
embarrassment  that  came  to  his  aid,  forcing 
him  to  start  up-stairs  without  further  delay. 
"  Perhaps  you  will  come  too,"  he  said,  as  he 
passed,  and  Birgit  followed  him.  Up-stairs  in 
the  garret  they  were  entirely  alone  ;  yet  Baard 
locked  the  door  after  them,  and  he  was  a  long 
time  about  it.  When  finally  he  turned,  Birgit 
stood  by  the  window  gazing  out ;  it  was  in 
order  to  avoid  looking  into  the  room.  Baard 
brought  forth  a  small  flask  from  his  breast 
pocket  and  a  little  silver  cup.  He  wanted  to 
pour  out  some  wine  for  his  wife,  but  she  would 
not  have  any,  although  he  assured  her  that  it 
was  wine  that  had  been  sent  from  the  parson- 
age. Then  he  drank  himself,  but  paused  sev- 
eral times  to  offer  the  cup  to  her.  He  corked 
the  flask,  put  both  it  and  the  cup  away  in  his 
breast-pocket  again,  and  sat  down  on  a  chest. 


198  ARNE. 

It  very  evidently  pained  him  that  his  wife 
would  not  drink  with  him. 

He  breathed  heavily  several  times.  Birgit 
stood  leaning  with  one  hand  against  the  win- 
dow frame.  Baard  had  something  to  say,  but 
now  it  seemed  even  harder  to  speak  than  be- 
fore. 

"  Birgit !  "  said  he,  "  I  dare  say  you  are  think- 
ing of  the  same  to-day  that  I  am." 

Then  he  heard  her  move  from  one  side  of  the 
window  to  the  other,  and  again  she  leaned  her 
head  on  her  arm. 

"  Oh,  yes ;  you  know  who  I  mean.  He  it 
was  who  parted  us  two.  I  thought  it  would 
not  go  beyond  the  wedding,  but  it  has  lasted 
much  longer." 

He  heard  her  sigh,  he  saw  her  again  change 
her  place ;  but  he  did  not  see  her  face.  He 
himself  was  struggling  so  hard  that  he  had  to 
wipe  his  face  with  his  jacket  sleeve.  After  a 
long  conflict  he  began  again  :  "  To-day  a  son 
of  his,  well-educated  and  handsome,  becomes 
one  of  us,  and  to  him  we  have  given  our  only 
daughter.  Now,  how  would  it  be,  Birgit,  if  we 
two  were  to  have  our  wedding  to-day  ?  " 

His  voice  trembled,  and  he  cleared  his  throat. 
Birgit,  who  had  raised  her  head,  now  leaned  it 
on  her  arm   again,  but   said   nothing.     Baard 


ARNE.  199 

waited  for  some  time  ;  he  heard  her  breathe, 
but  he  got  no  answer,  —  and  he  had  nothing 
further  to  say  himself  either.  He  looked  up 
and  grew  very  pale  ;  for  she  did  not  even  turn 
her  head.     Then  he  rose. 

At  the  same  moment  there  was  a  gentle 
knock  at  the  door,  and  a  soft  voice  asked,  "  Are 
you  coming,  mother  ? "  It  was  Eli.  There 
was  something  in  the  tone  that  made  Baard 
involuntarily  pause  and  glance  at  Birgit.  Bir- 
git  also  raised  her  head  ;  she  looked  towards 
the  door,  and  her  eyes  fell  on  Baard's  pale  face. 
"  Are  you  coming,  mother  ?  "  was  once  more 
asked  from  without. 

"  Yes,  I  am  coming  now  !  "  said  Birgit,  in  a 
broken  voice,  as  she  firmly  crossed  the  floor  to 
where  Baard  stood,  gave  him  her  hand,  and 
burst  into  the  most  passionate  weeping.  The 
two  hands  met,  they  were  both  toil-worn  now, 
but  they  clasped  as  firmly  as  though  they  had 
been  seeking  each  other  for  twenty  years.  They 
still  clung  together  as  they  went  toward  the 
door,  and  when  a  while  later  the  bridal  proces- 
sion was  passing  down  to  the  landing-place, 
and  Arne  gave  his  hand  to  Eli  to  take  the  lead, 
Baard,  seeing  it,  took  his  wife  by  the  hand, 
contrary  to  all  custom,  and  followed  them, 
smiling  contentedly. 


200  ARNE. 

Behind  them,  Margit  Kampen  walked  alone, 
as  was  her  wont. 

Baard  was  in  high  spirits  that  day ;  he  sat 
talking  with  the  rowers.  One  of  these  who 
kept  looking  up  at  the  mountains  remarked, 
that  it  was  strange  that  even  such  a  steep  rock 
could  be  clad. 

"  It  must,  whether  it  would  or  no,"  said 
Baard,  and  his  eyes  wandered  all  along  the 
procession  until  they  rested  on  the  bridal  pair 
and  his  wife.  "  Who  could  have  foretold  this 
twenty  years  ago  ?  "  said  he. 


EARLY  TALES  AND  SKETCHES. 


THE    RAILROAD    AND    THE 
CHURCHYARD. 


CHAPTER  I. 

Knud  Aakre  belonged  to  an  old  family  in 
the  parish,  where  it  had  always  been  renowned 
for  its  intelligence  and  its  devotion  to  the  pub- 
lic welfare.  His  father  had  worked  his  way  up 
to  the  priesthood,  but  had  died  early,  and  as 
the  widow  came  from  a  peasant  stock,  the  chil- 
dren were  brought  up  as  peasants.  Knud  had, 
therefore,  received  only  the  education  afforded 
by  the  public  schools  of  his  day ;  but  his  fa- 
ther's library  had  early  inspired  him  with  a 
love  of  knowledge.  This  was  further  stimu- 
lated by  his  friend  Henrik  Wergeland,  who 
frequently  visited  him,  sent  him  books,  seeds, 
and  much  valuable  counsel.  Following  some 
of  the  latter,  Knud  early  founded  a  club,  which 
in  the  beginning  had  a  very  miscellaneous  ob- 
ject, for  instance:  "  to  give  the  members  prac-' 


204       THE   RAILROAD   AND    THE   CHURCHYARD. 

tice  in  debating  and  to  study  the  constitution," 
but  which  later  was  turned  into  a  practical 
agricultural  society  for  the  entire  bailiwick. 
According  to  Wergeland's  advice,  he  also 
founded  a  parish  library,  giving  his  father's 
books  as  its   first   endowment.     A   suggestion 

DC 

from  the  same  quarter  led  him  to  start  a  Sunday- 
school  on  his  garcl,  for  those  who  might  wish  to 
learn  writing,  arithmetic,  and  history.  All  this 
drew  attention  to  him,  so  that  he  was  elected 
member  of  the  parish  board  of  supervisors,  of 
which  he  soon  became  chairman.  In  this  ca- 
pacity, he  took  a  deep  interest  in  the  schools, 
which  he.  brought  into  a  remarkably  good  con- 
dition. 

Knud  Aakre  was  a  short  man,  brisk  in  his 
movements,  with  small,  restless  eyes  and  very 
disorderly  hair.  He  had  large  lips,  which  were 
in  constant  motion,  and  a  row  of  splendid  teeth 
which  always  seemed  to  be  working  with  them, 
for  they  glistened  while  his  words  were  snapped 
out,  crisp  and  clear,  crackling  like  sparks  from 
a  great  fire. 

Foremost  among  the  many  he  had   helped  to 

gain  an  education  was  his  neighbor  Lars  Hog- 

stad.     Lars  was  not  much  younger  than  Knud, 

but   he    had   developed   more    slowly.     Knud 

•liked  to  talk  about  what  he  read  and  thought, 


THE   RAILROAD   AND    THE   CHURCHYARD.       205 

and  he  found  in  Lars,  whose  manner  was  quiet 
and  grave,  a  good  listener,  who  by  degrees 
grew  to  be  a  man  of  excellent  judgment.  The 
relations  between  them  soon  became  such  that 
Knud  was  never  willing  to  take  any  impor- 
tant step  without  first  consulting  Lars  Hog- 
stad,  and  the  matter  on  hand  was  thus  likely 
to  gain  some  practical  amendment.  So  Knud 
drew  his  neighbor  into  the  board  of  supervisors, 
and  gradually  into  everything  in  which  he  him- 
self took  part.  They  always  drove  together 
to  the  meetings  of  the  board,  where  Lars  never 
spoke  ;  but  on  the  way  back  and  forth  Knud 
learned  his  opinions.  The  two  were  looked 
upon  as  inseparable. 

One  fine  autumn  day  the  board  of  supervisors 
convened  to  consider,  among  other  things,  a 
proposal  from  the  bailiff  to  sell  the  parish  grain 
magazine  and  with  the  proceeds  establish  a 
small  savings-bank.  Knud  Aakre,  the  chair- 
man, would  undoubtedly  have  approved  this 
measure  had  he  relied  on  his  unbiased  judg- 
ment. But  he  was  prejudiced,  partly  because 
the  proposal  came  from  the  bailiff,  whom  Wer- 
geland  did  not  like,  and  who  was  consequently 
po  favorite  of  Knud's  either,  and  partly  be- 
cause the  grain  magazine  had  been  built  by  hia 


20 G      THE  RAILROAD  AND   THE   CHURCHYARD. 

influential  paternal  grandfather  and  by  him 
presented  to  the  parish.  Indeed,  Knud  was 
rather  inclined  to  view  the  proposition  as  a 
personal  insult,  therefore  he  had  not  spoken  of 
it  to  any  one,  not  even  to  Lars,  and  the  latter 
never  entered  on  a  topic  that  had  not  first  been 
set  afloat  by  some  one  else. 

As  chairman,  Knud  Aakre  read  the  proposal 
without  adding  any  comments;  but,  as  was  his 
wont,  his  eyes  sought  Lars,  who  usually  sat  or 
stood  a  little  aside,  holding  a  straw  between  his 
teeth,  —  he  always  had  one  when  he  took  part 
in  a  conversation ;  he  either  used  it  as  a  tooth- 
pick, or  he  let  it  hang  loosely  in  one  corner  of 
his  mouth,  turning  it  more  rapidly  or  more 
slowly,  according  to  the  mood  he  was  in.  To 
his  surprise  Knud  saw  that  the  straw  was  mov- 
ing very  fast. 

"  Do  you  think  we  should  agree  to  this  ?  " 
he  asked,  quickly. 

Lars  answered,  dryly,  — 

"  Yes,  I  do." 

The  whole  board,  feeling  that  Knud  held 
quite  a  different  opinion,  looked  in  astonishment 
at  Lars,  but  the  latter  said  no  more,  nor  was  lie 
further  questioned.  Knud  turned  to  another 
matter,  as  though  nothing  had  transpired.  Not 
until  the  close  of  the  meeting  did  he  resume  the 


THE  RAILROAD   AND   THE  CHURCHYARD.      207 

subject,  and  then  asked,  with  apparent  indiffer- 
ence, if  it  would  not  be  well  to  send  the  propo- 
sal back  to  the  bailiff  for  further  consideration, 
as  it  certainly  did  not  meet  the  views  of  the 
people,  for  the  parish  valued  the  grain  maga- 
zine. No  one  replied.  Knud  asked  whether  he 
should  enter  the  resolution  in  the  register,  the 
measure  did  not  seem  to  be  a  wise  one. 

"  Against  one  vote,"  added  Lars. 

"  Against  two,"  cried  another,  promptly. 

"  Against  three,"  came  from  a  third  ;  and  be- 
fore the  chairman  could  realize  what  was  taking 
place,  a  majority  had  voted  in  favor  of  the  pro- 
posal. 

Knud  was  so  surprised  that  he  forgot  to  offer 
any  opposition.  He  recorded  the  proceedings 
and  read,  in  a  low  voice  :  "  The  measure  is  rec- 
ommended, —  adjourned." 

His  face  was  fiei'y  red  as  he  rose  and  put  up 
the  minute-book ;  but  he  determined  to  bring 
forward  the  question  once  more  at  the  meeting 
of  the  representatives.  Out  in  the  yard,  he  put 
his  horse  to  the  wagon,  and  Lars  came  and  took 
his  seat  at  his  side.  They  discussed  various 
topics  on  their  way  home,  but  not  the  one  they 
had  nearest  at  heart. 

The  next  day  Knud's  wife  sought  Lars's  wife 
to  inquire  if  there  was  anything  wrong  between 


208       THE   RAILROAD   AND   THE   CHUICHYARD. 

the  two  men,  for  Knud  had  acted  so  strangely 
when  he  came  home.  A  short  distance  above 
the  gard  buildings  she  met  Lars's  wife,  who  was 
on  her  way  to  ask  the  same  question,  for  her 
husband,  too,  bad  been  out  of  sorts  the  day  be- 
fore. Lars's  wife  was  a  quiet,  bashful  person, 
somewhat  cowed,  not  by  harsh  words,  but  by 
silence,  for  Lars  never  spoke  to  her  unless  she 
had  done  something  amiss,  or  he  feared  that 
she  might  do  wrong.  Knud  Aakre's  wife,  on  the 
other  hand,  talked  more  with  her  husband,  and 
particularly  about  the  board,  for  lately  it  had 
taken  his  thoughts,  work,  and  affection  away 
from  her  and  the  children.  She  was  as  jealous 
of  it  as  of  a  woman  ;  she  wept  at  night  over  the 
board  and  quarreled  with  her  husband  about 
it  during  the  day.  But  for  that  ver}'  reason 
she  could  say  nothing  about  it  now  when  for 
once  he  had  returned  home  unhappy ;  for  she 
immediately  became  more  wretched  than  he, 
and  for  her  life  she  could  not  rest  until  she  had 
discovered  what  was  the  matter.  Consequently, 
when  Lars's  wife  could  not  give  her  the  desired 
information,  she  had  to  go  out  in  the  parish  to 
seek  it.  Here  she  obtained  it,  and  of  course 
was  at  once  of  her  husband's  opinion  ;  she  found 
Lars  incomprehensible,  not  to  say  wicked. 
When,  however,  she  let  her  husband  perceive 


THE   RAILROAD   AND   THE   CHURCHYARD.       209 

this,  she  felt  that  as  yet  there  was  no  breach 
between  Lars  and  him  ;  that,  on  the  contrary, 
he  clung  warmly  to  him. 

The  representatives  met.  Lars  Hogstad  drove 
over  to  Aakre  in  the  morning ;  Knud  came  out 
of  the  house  and  took  his  seat  beside  him. 
They  exchanged  the  usual  greetings,  spoke 
perhaps  rather  less  than  was  their  wont  on  the 
way,  and  not  of  the  proposal.  All  the  mem- 
bers of  the  board  were  present;  some,  too,  had 
found  their  way  in  as  spectators,  which  Knud 
did  not  like,  for  it  showed  that  there  was  a 
stir  in  town  about  the  matter.  Lars  was  armed 
with  his  straw,  and  he  stood  by  the  stove  warm- 
ing himself,  for  the  autumn  was  beginning  to 
be  cold.  The  chairman  read  the  proposal,  in  a 
subdued,  cautious  manner,  remarking  when  he 
was  through,  that  it  must  be  remembered  this 
came  from  the  bailiff,  who  was  not  apt  to  be 
a  ery  felicitous  in  his  propositions.  The  build- 
ing, it  was  well  known,  was  a  gift,  and  it  is  not 
customary  to  part  with  gifts,  least  of  all  when 
there  is  no  need  of  doing  so. 

Lars,  who  never  before  had  spoken  at  the 
meetings,  now  took  the  floor,  to  the  astonish- 
ment of  all.  His  voice  trembled,  but  whether 
it  did  so  out  of  regard  for  Knud,  or  from  anxiety 
lest  his  own  cause  should  be  lost,  shall  remain 
14 


210      THE   RAILROAD   AND    THE   CHURCHYARD. 

unsaid.  But  his  arguments  were  good  and 
plear,  and  full  of  a  logic  and  confidence  which 
had  scarcely  been  heard  at  these  meetings  be- 
fore. And  when  he  had  gone  over  all  the 
ground,  he  added,  in  conclusion  :  — 

"  What  does  it  matter  if  the  proposal  does 
come  from  the  bailiff?  This  affects  the  ques- 
tion as  little  as  who  erected  the  building,  or  in 
what  way  it  came  into  the  public  possession." 

Knud  Aakre  had  grown  very  red  in  the  face 
(he  blushed  easily),  and  he  shifted  uneasily 
from  side  to  side,  as  was  his  wont  when  he  was 
impatient,  but  none  the  less  did  he  exert  him- 
self to  be  circumspect  and  to  speak  in  a  low 
voice.  There  were  savings-banks  enough  in  the 
country,  he  thought,  and  quite  near  at  hand, 
he  might  almost  say  too  near.  But  if,  after  all, 
it  was  deemed  expedient  to  have  one,  there 
were  surely  other  wa}'S  of  reaching  it  than  those 
hading  over  the  gifts  of  the  dead  and  the  love 
of  the  living.  His  voice  was  a  little  unsteady 
when  he  said  this,  but  quickly  recovered  as  he 
proceeded  to  speak  of  the  grain  magazine  in  it- 
self, and  to  show  what  its  advantages  were. 

Lars  answered  him  thoroughly  on  the  last 
point,  and  then  added,  — 

"  However,  one  thing  and  another  lead  me  to 
doubt  whether  this  parish  is  managed  for  the 


THE   RAILROAD   AND   THE   CHURCHYARD.       211 

sake  of  the  living  or  the  dead  ;  furthermore, 
■whether  it  is  the  love  and  hatred  of  a  single 
family  which  controls  matters  here,  or  the  good 
of  the  whole." 

Knud  answered  quickly,  — 

"  I  do  not  know  whether  he  who  has  just 
spoken  has  been  least  benefited  by  this  family, 
—  both  by  the  dead  and  by  him  who  now 
lives." 

The  first  shot  was  aimed  at  the  fact  thai 
Knud's  powerful  grandfather  had  saved  the 
gard  for  Lars's  paternal  grandfather,  when  the 
latter,  on  his  part,  was  absent  on  a  little  excur- 
sion to  the  penitentiary. 

The  straw  which  long  had  been  in  brisk  mo- 
tion, suddenly  became  still. 

"  It  is  not  my  way  to  keep  talking  every- 
where about  myself  and  my  family,"  said  Lars, 
then  turned  again  with  calm  superiority  to  the 
subject  under  discussion,  briefly  reviewing  all 
the  points  with  one  definite  object.  Knud  had 
to  admit  to  himself  that  he  had  never  viewed 
the  matter  from  such  a  broad  standpoint ;  in- 
voluntarily he  raised  his  eyes  and  looked  at 
Lars,  who  stood  before  him,  tall,  heavily  built, 
with  clearness  on  the  vigorous  brow  and  in  the 
deep  eyes.  The  lips  were  tightly  compressed, 
the   straw   still   played   in   the   corner   of   his 


212      THE   RAILROAD   AND    THE   CHURCHYARD. 

mouth ;  all  the  surrounding  lines  indicated 
vigor.  He  kept  his  hands  behind  him,  and 
stood  rigidly  erect,  while  his  voice  was  as  deep 
and  as  hollow  as  if  it  proceeded  from  the 
depths  of  the  earth.  For  the  first  time  in  his 
life  Knud  saw  him  as  he  was,  and  in  his  inmost 
soul  he  was  afraid  of  him  ;  for  this  man  must 
always  have  been  his  superior.  He  had  taken 
all  Knud  himself  knew  and  could  impart ;  he 
had  rejected  the  tares  and  retained  what  had 
produced  this  strong,  hidden  growth. 

He  had  been  fostered  and  loved  by  Knud, 
but  had  now  become  a  giant  who  hated  Knud 
deeply,  terribly.  Knud  could  not  explain  to 
himself  why,  but  as  he  looked  at  Lars  he  in- 
stinctively felt  this  to  be  so,  and  all  else  becom- 
ing swallowed  up  in  this  thought  he  started 
up,  exclaiming, — 

"  But  Lars  !  Lars  !  what  in  Heaven's  name 
is  the  matter  with  you?"  His  agitation  over- 
came him,  —  "you,  whom  I  have  —  you  who 
have  "  — 

Powerless  to  utter  another  word,  he  sat 
down  ;  but  in  his  effort  to  gain  the  mastery 
over  the  emotion  he  deemed  Lars  unworthy  of 
seeing,  lie  brought  his  fist  down  with  violence 
on  the  table,  while  his  eyes  flashed  beneath  his 
stiff,  disorderly  hair,  which  always  hung  over 


THE   RAILROAD   AND    THE    CHURCHYARD.      213 

them.  Lars  acted  as  if  lie  had  not  been  inter- 
rupted, and  turning  toward  the  others  he  asked 
if  this  was  to  be  the  decisive  blow  ;  for  if  such 
were  the  case  there  was  no  need  for  further  re- 
marks. 

This  calmness  was  more  than  Knud  could 
endure. 

"  What  is  it  that  has  come  among  us  ?  "  cried 
he.  "  We  who  have,  until  to-day,  been  actu- 
ated by  love  and  zeal  alone,  are  now  stirred  up 
against  each  other,  as  though  goaded  on  by 
some  evil  spirit,"  and  he  cast  a  fiery  glance  at 
Lars,  who  replied,  — 

"  It  must  be  you  yourself  who  bring  in  this 
spirit,  Knud  ;  for  I  have  kept  strictly  to  the 
matter  before  us.  But  you  never  can  see  the 
advantage  of  anything  you  do  not  want  your- 
self ;  now  we  shall  learn  what  becomes  of  the 
love  and  the  zeal  when  once  this  matter  is  de- 
cided as  we  wish." 

"  Have  I  then  illy  served  the  interests  of  the 
parish?  " 

There  was  no  reply.  This  grieved  Knud, 
and  he  continued,  — 

"  I  really  did  persuade  myself  that  I  had 
accomplished  various  things  —  various  things 
which  have  been  of  advantage  to  the  parish; 
but  perhaps  I  have  deceived  myself." 


214      THE   RAILROAD   AND    THE   CHURCHYARD. 

He  was  again  overcome  by  his  feelings  ;  for 
his  was  a  fiery  nature,  ever  variable  in  its 
moods,  and  the  breach  with  Lars  pained  him 
so  deeply  that  he  could  scarcely  control  him- 
self.    Lars  answered,  — 

"  Yes,  I  know  you  appropriate  the  credit  for 
all  that  is  done  here,  and  if  one  should  judge 
by  the  amount  of  speaking  at  these  meetings, 
you  certainly  have  accomplished  the  most." 

"  Is  that  the  way  of  it  ? "  shouted  Knud, 
looking  sharply  at  Lars.  "It  is  you  who  de- 
serve the  entire  honor  ?  " 

"  Since  we  must  finally  talk  about  ourselves," 
said  Lars,  "I  am  free  to  admit  that  every  ques- 
tion has  been  carefully  considered  by  both  of 
us  before  it  was  introduced  here." 

Here  little  Knud  Aakre  regained  his  ready 
speech :  — 

"  Take  the  honor,  in  God's  name ;  I  am 
quite  able  to  live  without  it ;  there  are  other 
things  that  are  harder  to  lose  !  " 

Involuntarily  Lars  evaded  his  gaze,  but  said, 
as  he  set  the  straw  in  very  rapid  motion,  — 

"  If  I  were  to  express  my  opinion,  I  should 
say  that  there  is  not  very  much  to  take  credit 
for.  No  doubt  the  priest  and  the  school-mas- 
ters are  content  with  what  has  lien  done  ;  hut 
certainly  the  common  people  say  that  up  to  the 


THE  RAILROAD   AND   THE   CHURCHYARD.       215 

present  time  the  taxes  of  this  parish  have  grown 
heavier  and  heavier." 

Here  arose  a  murmur  in  the  crowd,  and  the 
people  grew  very  restless.     Lars  continued,  — 

"  Finally,  to-day  we  have  a  matter  brought 
before  us  that  might  make  the  parish  some  lit- 
tle amends  for  all  it  has  paid  out ;  this  is  per- 
haps the  reason  why  it  encounters  such  opposi- 
tion. This  is  a  question  which  concerns  the 
parish ;  it  is  for  the  welfare  of  all ;  it  is  our 
duty  to  protect  it  from  becoming  a  mere  family 
matter." 

People  exchanged  glances,  and  spoke  in  half- 
audible  tones  ;  one  of  them  remarked,  as  he 
rose  to  go  for  his  dinner-pail,  that  these  were 
the  truest  words  he  had  heard  in  these  meetings 
for  many  years.  Now  all  rose  from  their  seats, 
the  conversation  became  general,  and  Knud 
Aakre,  who  alone  remained  sitting,  felt  that  all 
was  lost,  fearfully  lost,  and  made  no  further  ef- 
fort to  save  it.  The  truth  was,  he  possessed 
something  of  the  temperament  attributed  to 
Frenchmen  :  he  was  very  good  at  a  first,  sec- 
ond, or  even  third  attack,  but  poor  at  self-de- 
fense, for  his  sensibilities  overwhelmed  his 
thoughts. 

He  was  unable  to  comprehend  this,  nor  could 
he  sit  still   any  longer,  and    so    resigning    his 


216      THE  RAILROAD  AND   THE   CHURCHYARD. 

place  to  the  vice-chairman,  he  left.     The  others 
could  not  refrain  from  a  smile. 

He  had  come  to  the  meeting  in  company  with 
Lars,  but  went  home  alone,  although,  the  way 
was  long.  It  was  a  cold  autumn  day,  the  forest 
was  jagged  and  bare,  the  meadow  gray-yellow, 
frost  was  beginning  here  and  there  to  remain 
on  the  road-side.  Disappointment  is  a  terrible 
companion.  Knud  felt  so  small,  so  desolate,  as 
he  walked  along ;  but  Lars  appeared  every- 
where before  him,  towering  up  to  the  sky,  in 
the  dusk  of  the  evening,  like  a  giant.  It  vexed 
him  to  think  it  was  his  own  fault  that  this  had 
been  the  decisive  battle ;  he  had  staked  too  much 
on  one  single  little  issue.  But  surprise,  pain, 
anger,  had  mastered  him  ;  they  still  burned, 
tingled,  moaned,  and  stormed  within  him.  He 
heard  the  rumbling  of  cart-wheels  behind  him  ; 
il  was  Lars  driving  his  superb  horse  past  him, 
in  ;i  brisk  trot,  making  the  hard  road  resound 
like  distanl  thunder.  Knud  watched  the  broad- 
shouldered  form  that  sat  erect  in  the  cart,  while 
the  horse,  eager  for  home,  sped  onward,  with- 
out any  effort  on  the  part  of  Lars,  who  merely 
gave  him  a  loose  rein.  It  was  but  a  picture  of 
this  man's  power:  he  was  driving  onward  to 
the  goal!  Knud  felt  himself  cast  out  of  his 
cart,  to  stagger  on  alone  in  the  chill  autumn  air. 


THE   RAILROAD  AND   THE  CHURCHYARD.     £17 

In  his  home  at  Aakre  Knud's  wife  was  wait- 
ing for  him.  She  knew  that  a  battle  was  inevit- 
ble;  she  had  never  in  her  life  trusted  Lavs,  and 
now  she  was  positively  afraid  of  him.  It  had 
been  no  comfort  to  her  that  he  and  her  husband 
had  driven  away  together ;  it  would  not  have 
consoled  her  bad  they  returned  in  the  same  way. 
But  darkness  had  fallen  and  they  had  not  come. 
She  stood  in  the  doorway,  gazing  out  on  the 
road  in  front  of  the  house ;  she  walked  down  the 
hill  and  back  again,  but  no  cart  appeared. 

Finally  she  hears  a  rattling  on  the  hard 
road,  her  heart  throbs  as  the  wheels  go  round, 
she  clings  to  the  casement,  peering  out  into  the 
night ;  the  cart  draws  near ;  only  one  is  in  it ; 
she  recognizes  Lars,  who  sees  and  recognizes 
her,  but  drives  past  without  stopping.  Now  she 
became  thoroughly  alarmed.  Her  limbs  gave 
way  under  her,  she  tottered  in  and  sank  down 
on  the  bench  by  the  window.  The  children 
gathered  anxiously  about  her,  the  youngest  one 
asked  for  papa  ;  she  never  spoke  with  them  but 
of  him.  He  had  such  a  noble  disposition,  and 
this  was  what  made  her  love  him  ;  but  now  his 
heart  was  not  with  his  family,  it  was  engrossed 
in  all  sorts  of  business  which  brought  him  only 
unhappiness,  and  consequently  they  were  all 
unhappy. 


218      THE   EAILROAD   AND   THE   CHURCHYARD. 

If  only  no  misfortune  had  befallen  him  ! 
Knud  was  so  hot-tempered.  Why  had  Lars 
com?,  home  alone  ?  Why  did  he  not  stop  ? 
Should  she  run  after  him,  or  down  the  road 
after  her  husband  ?  She  was  in  an  agony  of  dis- 
tress, and  the  children  pressed  around  her,  ask' 
ing  what  was  the  matter.  But  this  she  would 
not  tell  them,  so  rising  she  said  they  must  eat 
supper  alone,  then  got  everything  ready  and 
helped  them.  All  the  while  she  kept  glancing 
out  on  the  road.  He  did  not  come.  She  un- 
dressed the  children  and  put  them  to  bed,  and 
the  youngest  repeated  the  evening  prayer  while 
she  bowed  over  him.  She  herself  prayed  with 
such  fervor  in  the  words  which  the.  infant  lips 
so  soothingty  uttered  that  she  did  not  heed  the 
steps  outside. 

Knud  stood  upon  the  threshold,  gazing  at  his 
little  company  at  prayer.  The  mother  drew 
herself  up  ;  all  the  children  shouted  :  "  Papa !  " 
but  he  seated  himself  at  once,  and  said,  softly  : 

"  Oh,  let  him  say  it  once  more !  " 

The  mother  turned  again  to  the  bedside,  that 
he,  meanwhile,  should  not  see  her  face,  for  it 
would  have  seemed  like  intruding  on  his  grief 
before  he  felt  the  need  of  revealing  it.  The 
little  one  folded  its  hands  over  its  hreast,  all 
the  rest  did  likewise,  and  it  repeated,  — 


THE   RAILROAD   AND   THE   CHURCHYARD.       219 

"I,  a  little  child,  pray  Heaven 
That  my  sins  may  be  forgiven, 
With  time  I  '11  larger,  wiser  grow, 
And  my  father  and  mother  joy  shall  know, 
If  only  Thou,  dearest,  dearest  Lord, 
Will  help  me  to  keep  Thy  precious  word ! 
And  now  to  our  Heavenly  Father's  merciful  keeping 
Our  souls  let  us  trust  while  we  're  sleeping." 

What  peace  now  fell  upon  the  room  !  Not  a 
minute  had  elapsed  ere  all  the  children  were 
sleeping  as  in  the  arms  of  God  ;  but  the  mother 
moved  softly  away  and  placed  supper  before 
the  father,  who  was,  however,  unable  to  eat. 
But  after  he  had  gone  to  bed,  he  said,  — 
"  Henceforth  I  shall  be  at  home." 
And  his  wife  lay  at  his  side  trembling  with 
joy  which  she  dared  not  betray ;  and  she 
thanked  God  for  all  that  had  happened,  for 
whatever  it  might  be  it  had  resulted  in  good ! 


CHAPTER    II. 


In  the  course  of  a  year  Lars  had  become 
chairman  of  the  parish  board  of  supervisors,  pres- 
ident of  the  savings-bank,  and  leading  commis- 
sioner in  the  court  of  reconciliation ;  in  short, 
he  held  every  office  to  which  his  election  had 
been  possible.     In  the  board  of  supervisors  for 


220       THE   RAILROAD   AND   THE   CHURCHYARD. 

the  amt  (county)  he  was  silent  during  the  first 
year,  but  the  second  year  he  created  the  same 
sensation  when  he  spoke  as  in  the  parish  board ; 
for  here,  too,  coming  forward  in  opposition  to 
him  who  had  previously  been  the  guiding 
power,  he  became  victorious  over  the  entire 
rank  and  file  and  was  from  that  time  himself 
the  leader.  From  this  his  path  led  him  to  the 
storthing  (parliament),  where  his  fame  had 
preceded  him,  and  where  consequently  there 
was  no  lack  of  challenges.  But  here,  although 
steady  and  firm,  he  always  remained  retiring. 
He  did  not  care  for  power  except  where  he  was 
well  known,  nor  would  he  endanger  his  leader- 
ship at  home  by  a  possible  defeat  abroad. 

For  he  had  a  pleasant  life  at  home.  When 
he  stood  by  the  church  wall  on  Sundays,  and 
the  congregation  walked  slowly  past,  saluting 
him  and  stealing  side  glances  at  him,  and  one 
after  another  paused  in  order  to  exchange  a 
few  words  with  him, — then  truly  it  might  be 
said  that  he  controlled  the  entire  parish  with  a 
straw,  for  of  course  this  hung  in  the  corner  of 
his  mouth. 

He  deserved  his  honors.  The  road  leading 
to  the  church,  he  had  opened  ;  the  new  church 
they  were  standing  beside,  he  had  built ;  this 
and  much  more  was  the  fruit  of  the  savings- 


THE   RAILROAD   AND   THE   CHURCHYARD.      221 

bank  which  he  had  founded  and  now  managed 
himself.  For  its  resources  were  further  made 
fruitful,  and  the  parish  was  constantly  held  up 
as  an  example  to  all  others  of  self-management 
and  good  order. 

Knud  Aakre  had  entirely  withdrawn  from 
the  field,  although  at  first  he  attended  a  few 
of  the  meetings  of  the  board,  because  he  had 
promised  himself  that  he  would  continue  to  of- 
fer his  services,  even  if  it  were  not  altogether 
pleasing  to  his  pride.  In  the  first  proposal 
he  had  made,  he  became  so  greatly  perplexed 
by  Lars,  who  insisted  upon  having  it  repre- 
sented in  all  its  details,  that,  somewhat  hurt, 
he  said:  "When  Columbus  discovered  America 
he  did  not  have  it  divided  into  parishes  and 
deaneries  ;  this  came  gradually ;  "  whereupon 
Lars,  in  his  reply,  compared  the  discovery  of 
America  with  Knud's  proposal,  —  it  so  hap- 
pened that  this  treated  of  stable  improvements, 
—  and  afterwards  Knud  was  known  by  no  other 
name  in  the  board  than  "  Discovery  of  Amer- 
ica." So  Knud  thought  that  as  his  usefulness 
had  ceased,  so  too  had  his  obligations  to  work, 
and  he  refused  to  accept  further  reelections. 

But  he  continued  to  be  industrious;  and  in 
order  that  he  might  still  have  a  field  for  use- 
fulness, he   enlarged    his    Sunday-school,  and 


222       THE   RAILROAD   AND  THE   CHURCHYARD. 

placed  it,  by  means  of  small  contributions  from 
the  attendants,  in  communication  with  the 
mission  cause,  of  which  he  soon  became  the 
centre  and  leader  in  his  own  and  the  surround- 
ing counties.  Thereupon  Lars  Hogstad  re- 
marked, that  if  ever  Knud  undertook  to  collect 
money  for  any  purpose,  he  must  know  before- 
hand that  it  was  to  do  good  thousands  of  miles 
from  home. 

There  was,  be  it  observed,  no  more  strife 
between  them.  To  be  sure,  they  no  longer 
associated  with  each  other,  but  they  bowed  and 
spoke  when  they  met.  Knud  always  felt  a 
little  pain  at  the  mere  thought  of  Lars,  but 
strove  to  suppress  it,  and  persuade  himself 
that  matters  could  not  have  been  otherwise. 
At  a  large  wedding-party,  many  years  after- 
ward, where  both  were  present  and  both  were 
in  good  spirits,  Knud  mounted  a  chair  and  pro- 
posed a  toast  for  the  chairman  of  the  parish 
board,  and  the  first  representative  their  amt 
had  sent  to  the  storthing!  He  spoke  until 
he  became  deeply  moved,  and,  as  usual,  ex- 
pressed himself  in  an  exceedingly  handsome 
way.  Every  one  thonghl  it  was  honorably 
done,  and  Lars  came  up  to  him,  and  his 
was  unsteady  as  he  said  that  for  much  of  what 
he  knew  and  was  he.  was   indebted   tn  lini. 


THE   RAILROAD   AND    THE   CHURCHYARD.       223 

At  the  next  election  of  the  board  of  super- 
visors Knud  was  again  made  chairman  ! 

But  had  Lars  Hogstad  foreseen  what  now 
followed,  he  would  certainly  not  have  used  his 
influence  for  this.  "Every  event  happens  in  its 
own  time,"  says  an  old  proverb,  and  just  as 
Knud  Aakre  again  entered  the  board,  the  best 
men  of  the  parish  were  threatened  with  ruin, 
as  the  result  of  a  speculation  craze  which  had 
long  been  raging,  but  which  now  first  began  to 
demand  its  victims.  It  was  said  that  Lars  Hog- 
stad was  the  cause  of  this  great  disaster,  for  he 
had  taught  the  parish  to  speculate.  This  penny 
fever  had  originated  in  the  parish  board  of 
supervisors,  for  the  board  itself  was  the  great- 
est speculator  of  all.  Every  one  down  to  the 
laboring  youth  of  twenty  years  desired  in  his 
transactions  to  make  ten  dollars  out  of  one ;  a 
beginning  of  extreme  avarice  in  the  efforts  to 
hoard,  was  followed  by  an  excessive  extrava- 
gance, and  as  all  minds  vjere  bent  only  on  mon- 
ey, there  had  at  the  same  time  developed  a 
spirit  of  suspicion,  of  intolerance,  of  caviling, 
which  resulted  in  lawsuits  and  hatred.  This 
also  was  due  to  the  example  of  the  board,  it 
was  said,  for  among  the  first  things  Lars  had 
done  as  chairman  was  to  sue  the  venerable  old 
priest  for  holding  doubtful  titles.     The  priest 


224      THE   RAILROAD   AND    THE   CHURCHYARD. 

had  lost,  but  had  also  immediately  resigned. 
At  that  time  some  had  praised,  some  censured 
this  suit ;  but  it  had  proved  a  bad  example. 
Now  came  the  consequences  of  Lars's  manage- 
ment, in  the  form  of  loss  to  every  single  man 
of  property  in  the  parish,  consequently  public 
opinion  underwent  a  sharp  change  !  The  op- 
posing force,  too,  soon  found  a  leader,  for  Knud 
Aakre  had  come  into  the  board,  introduced 
there  by  Lars  himself! 

The  struggle  began  forthwith.  All  those 
youths  to  whom  Knud  in  his  time  had  given 
instructions,  were  now  grown  up  and  were  the 
most  enlightened  men  in  the  parish,  thorough- 
ly at  home  in  all  its  transactions  and  public 
affairs.  It  was  against  these  men  that  Lars 
now  had  to  contend,  and  they  had  borne  him  a 
grudge  from  their  childhood  up.  When  of  an 
evening  after  one  of  these  stormy  proceedings 
he  stood  on  the  steps  in  front  of  his  house,  gaz- 
ing over  the  parish,  he  could  hear  a  sound  as 
of  distant  rumbling  thunder  rising  toward  him 
from  the  large  gards,  now  lying  in  the  storm. 
He  knew  that  the  day  they  met  their  ruin, 
the  savings-bank  and  himself  would  be  over- 
thrown,  and  all  his  long  efforts  would  culminate 
in  imprecations  heaped  on  his  head. 

In  these  days  of  conflict  and  despair,  a  party 


THE   RAILROAD   AND    THE    CHURCHYARD.       22.5 

of  railroad  commissioners,  who  were  to  survey 
the  route  for  a  new  road,  made  their  appear- 
ance one  evening  at  Hogstad,  the  first  gard  at 
the  entrance  to  the  parish.  In  the  course  of 
conversation  during  the  evening,  Lars  learned 
that  there  was  a  question  whether  the  road 
should  run  through  this  valley  or  another  par- 
allel to  it. 

Like  a  flash  of  lightning  it  darted  through 
his  mind  that  if  he  could  succeed  in  having  it 
laid  here,  all  property  would  rise  in  value,  and 
not  only  would  he  himself  be  saved  but  his  fame 
would  be  transmitted  to  the  latest  posterity  ! 
He  could  not  sleep  that  night,  for  his  eyes  were 
dazzled  by  a  glowing  light,  and  sometimes  he 
could  even  hear  the  sound  of  the  cars.  The 
next  day  he  went  himself  with  the  commis- 
sioners while  they  examined  the  locality  ;  his 
horse  took  them,  and  to  his  gard  they  returned. 
The  next  day  they  drove  through  the  other 
valley ;  he  was  still  with  them,  and  he  drove 
them  back  again  to  his  house.  They  found  a 
brilliant  illumination  at  Hogstad  ;  the  first  men 
of  the  parish  had  been  invited  to  be  present  at 
a  magnificent  party  given  in  honor  of  the 
commissioners ;  it  lasted  until  morning.  But 
to  no  avail,  for  the  nearer  they  came  to  a  final 
issue,  the   more   plainly  it   appeared   that  the 

15 


226      THE   RAILROAD   AND    THE   CHURCHYARD. 

road  could  not  pass  through  this  locality  with- 
out undue  expense.  The  entrance  to  the  valley 
lay  through  a  narrow  gorge,  and  just  as  it 
swung  into  the  parish,  the  swollen  river  swung 
in  also,  so  that  the  railroad  would  either  have 
to  take  the  same  curve  along  the  mountain  that 
the  highway  now  made,  thus  running  at  a 
needlessly  high  altitude  and  crossing  the  river 
twice,  or  it  would  have  to  run  straight  for- 
ward, and  thus  through  the  old,  now  unused 
churchyard.  Now  the  church  had  but  recently 
been  removed,  and  it  was  not  long  since  the 
last  burial  had  taken  place  there. 

If  it  only  depended  on  a  bit  of  old  churchyard, 
thought  Lars,  whether  or  not  this  great  blessing 
came  into  the  parish,  then  he  must  use  his 
name  and  his  energy  for  the  removal  of  this 
obstacle  !  He  at  once  set  forth  on  a  visit  to  the 
priest  and  the  dean,  and  furthermore  to  the 
diocese  council ;  he  talked  and  he  negotiated, 
for  he  was  armed  with  all  possible  facts  con- 
cerning the  immense  advantage  of  the  railroad 
on  one  hand,  and  the  sentiments  of  the  parish 
on  the  other,  and  actually  succeeded  in  winning 
all  parties.  It  was  promised  him  that  by  a  re- 
moval of  part  of  the  bodies  to  the  new  church- 
yard the  objections  might  be  considered  set 
aside,  and  the  royal  permission  obtained  for  the 


THE   RAILROAD   AND    THE   CHURCHYARD.       227 

churchyard  to  be  taken  for  the  line  of  railroad. 
It  was  told  hirn  that  nothing  was  now  needed 
but  for  him  to  set  the  question  afloat  in  the 
board  of  supervisors. 

The  parish  had  grown  as  excited  as  himself  : 
the  spirit  of  speculation  which  for  many  years 
had  been  the  only  one  prevailing  in  the  parish, 
now  became  madly  jubilant.  There  was  nothing 
spoken  or  thought  of  but  Lars's  journey  and  its 
possible  results.  When  he  returned  with  the 
most  magnificent  promises,  they  made  much  of 
him  ;  songs  were  sung  in  his  praise  ;  indeed,  if 
at  that  time  the  largest  gards  had  gone  to  de- 
struction, one  after  another,  no  one  would  have 
paid  the  slightest  attention  to  it :  the  specula- 
tion craze  had  given  way  to  the  railroad  craze. 

The  board  of  supervisors  assembled  :  there 
was  presented  for  approval  a  respectful  petition, 
that  the  old  churchyard  might  be  appropriated 
as  the  route  of  the  railroad.  This  was  unan 
imously  adopted ;  there  was  even  mention  of 
giving  Lars  a  vote  of  thanks  and  a  coffee-pot 
in  the  form  of  a  locomotive.  But  it  was  finally 
thought  best  to  wait  until  the  whole  plan  was 
tarried  into  execution.  The  petition  came  back 
from  the  diocese  council,  with  a  demand  for  a 
list  of  all  bodies  that  would  have  to  be  re- 
moved.   The  priest  made  out  such  a  list,  but  in- 


228       THE   RAILROAD   AND    THE    CHURCHYARD. 

stead  of  sending  it  direct,  be  had  his  own  reasons 
for  sending  it  through  the  parish  board.  One 
of  the  members  carried  it  to  the  next  meeting. 
Here  it  fell  to  the  lot  of  Lars,  as  chairman,  to 
open  the  envelope  and  read  the  list. 

Now  it  chanced  that  the  first  body  to  be  dis- 
interred was  that  of  Lars's  own  grandfather!  A 
little  shudder  ran  through  the  assembly!  Lars 
himself  was  startled,  but  nevertheless  continued 
to  read.  Then  it  furthermore  chanced  that  the 
second  body  was  that  of  Knud  Aakre's  grand- 
father, for  these  two  men  had  died  within  a 
short  time  of  each  other.  Knud  Aakre  sprang 
from  his  seat;  Lars  paused ;  every  one  looked 
up  in  consternation,  for  old  Knud  Aakre  had 
been  the  benefactor  of  the  parish  and  its  best 
beloved  man,  time  out  of  mind.  There  was  a 
dead  silence,  which  lasted  for  some  minutes.  At 
last  Lars  cleared  his  throat  and  went  on  read- 
ing. But  the  further  he  proceeded  the  worse 
the  matter  grew;  for  the  nearer  they  came  to 
their  own  time,  the  dearer  were  the  dead. 
When  he  had  finished,  Knud  Aakre  asked 
quietly  whether  the  others  did  not  agree  with 
him  in  thinking  that  the  air  about  them  was 
filled  with  spirits.  It  was  just  beginning  to 
grow  dark  in  the  room,  and  although  they  were 
mature   men   and  were  sitting   in   numbers  to- 


THE   RAILROAD   AND    THE   CHURCHYARD.      229 

gether,  they  could  not  refrain  from  feeling 
alarmed.  Lars  produced  a  bundle  of  matches 
from  his  pocket  and  struck  a  light,  dryly  re- 
marking, that  this  was  no  more  than  they  knew 
beforehand. 

"Yes,  it  is,"  said  Knud  pacing  the  floor,  "it 
is  more  than  I  knew  before.  Now  I  begin  to 
think  that  even  railroads  can  be  purchased  too 
dearly." 

These  words  sent  a  quiver  through  the  au- 
dience, and  observing  that  they  had  better 
further  consider  the  matter,  Knud  made  a  mo- 
tion to  that  effect. 

"  In  the  excitement  which  had  prevailed,"  he 
said,  "  the  benefit  likely  to  be  derived  from  the 
road  had  been  overestimated.  Even  if  the  rail- 
road did  not  pass  through  this  parish,  there 
would  have  to  be  stations  at  both  ends  of  the 
valley ;  true,  it  would  always  be  a  little  more 
troublesome  to  drive  to  them  than  to  a  station 
right  in  our  midst ;  yet  the  difficulty  would  not 
be  so  very  great  that  it  would  be  necessary  be- 
cause of  it  to  violate  the  repose  of  the  dead." 

Knud  was  one  of  those  who  when  his 
thoughts  were  once  in  rapid  motion  could  pre- 
sent the  most  convincing  arguments  ;  a  mo- 
ment before  what  he  now  said  had  not  occurred 
to  his  mind,  nevertheless  it  struck  home  to  all. 


230      THE   RAILROAD   AND   THE   CHURCHYARD. 

Lars  felt  the  danger  of  his  position,  and  con- 
cluding that  it  was  best  to  be  cautious,  ap- 
parently acquiesced  in  Knud's  proposition  to 
reconsider.  Such  emotions  are  always  woi'se 
in  the  beginning,  he  thought ;  it  is  wisest  to 
temporize  with  them. 

But  he  had  miscalculated.  In  ever  increas- 
ing waves  the  dread  of  touching  the  dead  of 
their  own  families  swept  over  the  inhabitants 
of  the  parish  ;  what  none  of  them  had  thought 
of  as  long  as  the  matter  existed  merely  in  the 
abstract,  now  became  a  serious  question  when  it 
was  brought  home  to  themselves.  The  women 
especially  were  excited,  and  the  road  near  the 
court-house  was  black  with  people  the  day  of 
the  next  meeting.  It  was  a  warm  summer  day, 
the  windows  were  removed,  and  there  were  as 
many  without  the  house  as  within.  All  felt 
that  a  great  battle  was  about  to  be  fought. 

Lars  came  driving  up  with  his  handsome 
horse,  and  was  greeted  by  all ;  he  looked  calmly 
and  confidently  around,  not  seeming  to  be  sur- 
prised at  anything.  He  took  a  seat  near  the 
window,  found  his  straw,  and  a  suspicion  of  a 
smile  played  over  his  keen  face  as  he  saw  Knud 
Aakre  rise  to  his  feet  to  act  as  spokesman  for 
all  the  dead  in  the  old  Hogstad  churchyard. 

But  Knud  Aakre  did   not   begin   with   the 


THE   RAILROAD   AND    THE   CHURCHYARD.       231 

churchyard.  He  began  with  an  accurate  exposi- 
tion of  how  greatly  the  profits  likely  to  accrue 
from  having  the  railroad  run  through  the  par- 
ish had  been  overestimated  in  all  this  turmoil. 
He  had  positive  proofs  for  every  statement  he 
made,  for  he  had  calculated  the  distance  of  each 
gard  from  the  nearest  station,  and  finally  he 
asked,  — 

"  Why  has  there  been  so  much  ado  about 
this  railroad,  if  not  in  behalf  of  the  parish  ?  " 

This  he  could  easily  explain  to  them.  There 
were  those  who  had  occasioned  so  great  a  dis- 
turbance that  a  still  greater  one  was  required  to 
conceal  it.  Moreover,  there  were  those  who  in 
the  first  outburst  of  excitement  could  sell  their 
gards  and  belongings  to  strangers  who  were 
foolish  enough  to  purchase.  It  was  a  shameful 
speculation  which  not  only  the  living  but  the 
dead  must  serve  to  promote  ! 

The  effect  of  his  address  was  very  consid- 
erable. But  Lars  had  once  for  all  resolved  to 
preserve  his  composure  let  come  what  would. 
He  replied,  therefore,  with  a  smile,  that  he  had 
been  under  the  impression  that  Knud  himself 
was  eager  for  the  railroad,  and  certainly  no  one 
would  accuse  him  of  having  any  knowledge  of 
speculation.  (Here  followed  a  little  laugh.) 
Knud  had  not  evinced  the  slightest  objection  to 


232       THE   RAILROAD   AND    THE   CHURCHYARD. 

the  removal  of  the  bodies  of  common  people  for 
the  sake  of  the  railroad  ;  but  when  his  own 
grandfather's  body  was  in  question  then  it  sud- 
denly affected  the  welfare  of  the  whole  com- 
munity !  He  said  no  more,  but  looked  with  a 
faint  smile  at  Knud,  as  did  also  sevei'al  others. 
Meanwhile,  Knud  Aakre  surprised  both  him 
and  them  by  replying  :  — 

"  I  confess  it ;  I  did  not  comprehend  the 
matter  until  it  touched  my  own  family  feel- 
ings ;  it  is  possible  that  this  may  be  a  shame, 
but  it  would  have  been  a  far  greater  one  not 
to  have  realized  it  at  last  —  as  is  the  case  with 
Lars !  Never,"  he  concluded,  "  could  this  rail- 
lery have  been  more  out  of  place ;  for  to  peo- 
ple with  common  decency  the  whole  affair  is 
absolutely  revolting." 

"  This  feeling  is  something  that  has  come  up 
quite  recently,"  replied  Lars,  "  we  may  there- 
fore hope  that  it  will  soon  pass  over  again. 
May  it  not  perhaps  help  the  matter  a  little  to 
think  what  the  priest,  dean,  diocese  council,  en- 
gineers, and  government  will  all  say  if  we  first 
unanimously  set  the  ball  in  motion,  then  come 
and  beg  to  have  it  stopped  ?  If  we  first  are 
jubilant  and  sing  songs,  then  weep  and  deliver 
funeral  orations  ?  If  they  do  not  say  that  we 
have  gone  mad  in  this  parish,  they  must  at  all 


THE   RAILROAD   AND   THE   CHURCHYARD.       233 

events  say  that  we  have  acted  rather  strangely 
of  late." 

"  Yes,  God  knows,  they  may  well  think  so  !  " 
replied  Knud.  "  We  have,  indeed,  acted  very 
strangely  of  late,  and  it  is  high  time  for  us  to 
mend  our  ways.  Things  have  come  to  a  serious 
pass  when  we  can  each  disinter  his  own  grand- 
father to  make  way  for  a  railroad  ;  when  we 
can  disturb  the  resting-place  of  the  dead  in 
order  that  our  own  burdens  may  the  more 
easily  be  carried.  For  is  not  this  rooting  in  our 
churchyard  in  order  to  make  it  yield  us  food 
the  same  thing  ?  What  is  buried  there  in  the 
name  of  Jesus,  we  take  up  in  Moloch's  name 
—  this  is  but  little  better  than  eating  the  bones 
of  our  ancestors." 

"  Such  is  the  course  of  nature,"  said  Lars, 
dryly. 

"Yes,  of  plants  and  of  animals." 

"  And  are  not  we  animals  ?  " 

"  We  are,  but  also  the  children  of  the  living 
God,  who  have  buried  our  dead  in  faith  in 
Him :  it  is  He  who  shall  rouse  them  and  not 
we." 

"  Oh,  you  are  talking  idly !  Are  we  not 
obliged  to  have  the  graves  dug  up  at  any  rate, 
when  their  turn  comes?  What  harm  is  there 
vn  having  it  happen  a  few  years  earlier  ?  " 


234      THE  RAILROAD  AND   THE   CHURCHYARD. 

"  I  will  tell  you.  What  was  born  of  them 
still  draws  the  breath  of  life ;  what  they  built 
up  yet  remains  ;  what  they  loved,  taught,  and 
suffered  for,  lives  about  us  and  within  us ;  and 
should  we  not  allow  them  to  rest  in  peace  ?  " 

"  Your  warmth  shows  me  that  you  are  think- 
ing of  your  own  grandfather  again,"  replied 
Lars,  "  and  I  must  say  it  seems  to  me  high  time 
the  parish  should  be  rid  of  him.  He  monopo- 
lized too  much  space  while  he  lived ;  and  so  it 
is  scarcely  worth  while  to  have  him  lie  in  the 
way  now  that  he  is  dead.  Should  his  corpse 
prevent  a  blessing  to  this  parish  that  would  ex- 
tend through  a  hundred  generations,  we  may 
truly  say  that  of  all  who  have  been  born  here, 
he  has  done  us  the  greatest  harm." 

Knud  Aakre  tossed  back  his  disorderly  hair, 
his  eyes  flashed,  his  whole  person  looked  like  a 
bent  steel  spring. 

"  How  much  of  a  blessing  what  you  are 
speaking  about  may  be,  I  have  already  shown. 
It  has  the  same  character  as  all  the  other  bless- 
ings with  which  you  have  supplied  the  parish, 
namely,  a  doubtful  one.  It  is  true,  you  have 
provided  us  with  a  new  church,  but  you  have 
also  filled  it  with  a  new  spirit,  —  and  it  is  not 
that  of  love.  True,  you  have  furnished  us  with 
new  roads,   but   also  with   new   roads   to   de- 


THE   RAILROAD   AND   THE   CHURCHYARD.       235 

struction,  as  is  now  plainly  manifest  in  the  mis- 
fortunes of  many.  True,  you  have  diminished 
our  public  taxes,  but  you  have  increased  our 
private  ones  ;  lawsuits,  promissory  notes,  and 
bankruptcies  are  no  fruitful  gifts  to  a  commu- 
nity. And  you  dare  dishonor  in  his  grave  the 
man  whom  the  whole  parish  blesses?  You  dare 
assert  that  he  lies  in  our  way  ;  aye,  no  doubt 
he  does  lie  in  your  way,  this  is  plain  enough 
now,  for  his  grave  will  be  the  cause  of  your 
downfall !  The  spirit  which  has  reigned  over 
you,  and  until  to-day  over  us  all,  was  not  born 
to  rule  but  to  enter  into  servitude.  The  church- 
yard will  surely  be  allowed  to  remain  in  peace ; 
but  to-day  it  shall  have  one  grave  added  to 
it,  namely,  that  of  your  popularity  which  is  now 
to  be  buried  there." 

Lars  Hogstad  rose,  white  as  a  sheet ;  his  lips 
parted,  but  he  was  unable  to  utter  a  word,  and 
the  straw  fell.  After  three  or  four  vain  efforts 
to  find  it  again  and  recover  his  powers  of  speech, 
he  burst  forth  like  a  volcano  with, — 

"  And  so  these  are  the  thanks  I  get  for  all 
my  toil  and  drudgery !  If  such  a  woman- 
preacher  is  to  be  allowed  to  rule  —  why,  then, 
may  the  devil  be  your  chairman  if  ever  I  set 
my  foot  here  again  !  I  have  kept  things  to- 
gether until  this  day,  and  after  me  your  trash 


236      THE   RAILROAD   AND    THE   CHURCHYARD. 

will  fall  into  a  thousand  pieces,  but  let  it  turn 
ble  down  now  —  here  is  the  register  !  "  And  he 
flung  it  on  the  table.  "  Shame  on  such  an 
assembly  of  old  women  and  brats  !  "  Here  he 
struck  the  table  with  great  violence.  "  Shame 
on  the  whole  parish  that  it  can  see  a  man  re- 
warded as  I  am  now." 

He  brought  down  his  fist  once  more  with 
such  force  that  the  great  court-house  table 
shook,  and  the  inkstand  with  its  entire  con- 
tents tumbled  to  the  floor,  marking  for  all 
future  generations  the  spot  where  Lars  Hogstad 
fell  in  spite  of  all  his  prudence,  his  long  rule, 
and  his  patience. 

He  rushed  to  the  door  and  in  a  few  moments 
had  left  the  place.  The  entire  assembly  re- 
mained motionless ;  for  the  might  of  his  voice 
and  of  his  wrath  had  frightened  them,  until 
Knud  Aakre,  remembering  the  taunt  he  had 
received  at  the  time  of  his  fall,  with  beaming 
countenance  and  imitating  Lars's  voice,  ex- 
claimed :  — 

"  Is  this  to  be  the  decisive  blow  in  the 
matter  ?  " 

The  whole  assembly  burst  into  peals  of  mer- 
riment at  these  words !  The  solemn  meeting 
ended  in  laughter,  talk,  and  high  glee ;  only  a 
few   left  the   place,   those    remaining    behind 


THE   RAILROAD    AND   THE   CHURCHYARD.      237 

called  for  drink  to  add  to  their  food,  and  a  night 
of  thunder  succeeded  a  day  of  lightning.  Every- 
one felt  as  happy  and  independent  as  of  yore, 
ere  the  commanding  spirit  of  Lars  had  cowed 
their  souls  into  dumb  obedience.  They  drank 
toasts  to  their  freedom  ;  they  sang,  indeed, 
finally  they  danced,  Knud  Aakre  and  the  vice- 
chairman  taking  the  lead  and  all  the  rest  fol- 
lowing, while  boys  and  girls  joined  in,  and 
the  young  folks  outside  shouted  "Hurrah  !  "  for 
such  a  jollification  they  had  never  before  seen  ! 


CHAPTER  III. 


Lars  moved  about  in  the  large  rooms  at  Hog- 
stad,  without  speaking  a  word.  His  wife,  who 
loved  him,  but  always  in  fear  and  trembling, 
dared  not  come  into  his  presence.  The  man- 
agement of  the  gard  and  of  the  house  might  be 
carried  on  as  best  it  could,  while  on  the  other 
hand  there  kept  growing  a  multitude  of  letters, 
which  passed  back  and  forth  between  Hogstad 
and  the  parish,  and  Hogstad  and  the  post-office  ; 
for  Lars  had  claims  against  the  parish  board, 
and  these  not  being  satisfied   he  prosecuted ; 


238     THE   RAILROAD  AND    THE   CHURCHYARD. 

against  the  savings-bank,  which  were  also  un- 
satisfied, and  so  resulted  in  another  suit.  He 
took  offense  at  expressions  in  the  letters  he 
received  and  went  to  law  again,  now  against 
the  chairman  of  the  parish  board,  now  against 
the  president  of  the  savings-bank.  At  the  same 
time  there  were  dreadful  articles  in  the  news- 
papers, which  report  attributed  to  him,  and 
which  were  the  cause  of  great  dissension  in 
the  parish,  inciting  neighbor  against  neighbor 
Sometimes  he  was  absent  whole  weeks,  no  one 
knew  where,  and  when  lie  returned  he  lived  as 
secluded  as  before.  At  church  he  had  not  been 
seen  after  the  great  scene  at  the  representa- 
tives' meeting. 

Then  one  Saturday  evening  the  priest  brought 
tidings  that  the  railroad  was  to  run  through 
the  parish  after  all,  and  across  the  old  church- 
yard!  It  struck  like  lightning  into  every 
home.  The  unanimous  opposition  of  the  par- 
ish board  had  been  in  vain,  Lars  Hogstad's 
influence  had  been  stronger.  This  was  the 
inclining  of  his  journeys,  this  was  his  work  ! 
Involuntary  admiration  of  the  man  and  his 
stubborn  persistence  tended  to  suppress  the 
dissatisfaction  of  the  people  at  their  own  defeat, 
and  the  more  they  discussed  the  matter  the 
more  reconciled  they  became  ;  for  a  fact  accom 


THE   RAILROAD   AND   THE    CHURCHYARD.      239 

plished  always  contains  within  itself  reasons 
why  it  is  so,  which  gradually  force  themselves 
upon  us  after  there  is  no  longer  possibility 
of  change.  The  people  assembled  about  the 
church  the  next  day,  and  they  could  not  help 
laughing  as  they  met  one  another.  And  just 
as  the  wjiole  congregation,  young  and  old,  men 
and  women,  aye,  even  children,  were  all  talking 
about  Lars  Hb'gstad,  his  ability,  his  rigorous 
will,  his  immense  influence,  he  himself  with 
his  whole  household  came  driving  up  in  four 
conveyances,  one  after  the  other.  It  was  two 
years  since  his  last  visit  there  !  He  alighted 
and  passed  through  the  crowd,  while  all,  as  by 
one  impulse,  unhesitatingly  greeted  him,  but  he 
did  not  deign  to  bestow  a  glance  on  either  side, 
nor  to  return  a  single  salutation.  His  little 
wife,  pale  as  death,  followed  him.  Inside  of 
the  church,  the  astonishment  grew  to  such  a 
pitch  that  as  one  after  another  caught  sight  of 
him  they  stopped  singing  and  only  stared  at 
him.  Knud  Aakre,  who  sat  in  his  pew  in  front 
of  Lars,  noticed  that  there  was  something  the 
matter,  and  as  he  perceived  nothing  remarkable 
in  front  of  him,  he  turned  round.  He  saw  Lars 
bowed  over  his  hymn-book,  searching  for  the 
place. 

He  had  not  seen  him  since  that  evening  at 


240      THE  RAILROAD   AND   THE  CHURCHYARD. 

the  meeting,  and  such  a  complete  change  he 
had  not  believed  possible.  For  this  was  no 
victor!  The  thin,  soft  hair  was  thinner  than 
ever,  the  face  was  haggard  and  emaciated,  the 
eyes  hollow  and  bloodshot,  the  giant  neck  had 
dwindled  into  wrinkles  and  cords.  Knud  com- 
prehended at  a  glance  what  this  man  had  gone 
through ;  he  was  seized  with  a  feeling  of  strong 
sympathy,  indeed,  he  felt  something  of  the  old 
love  stirring  within  his  breast.  He  prayed  for 
Lars  to  his  God,  and  made  a  resolute  vow  that 
he  would  seek  him  after  service  ;  but  Lars  had 
started  on  ahead.  Knud  resolved  to  call  on 
him  that  evening.  His  wife,  however,  held  him 
back. 

"  Lars  is  one  of  those,"  said  she,  "  who  can 
scarcely  bear  a  debt  of  gratitude  :  keep  away 
from  him  until  he  has  an  opportunity  to  do 
you  some  favor,  and  then  perhaps  he  will  come 
to  you!" 

But  he  did  not  come.  Pie  appeared  now  and 
then  at  church,  but  nowhere  else,  and  he  as- 
sociated with  no  one.  On  the  other  hand,  he 
now  devoted  himself  to  his  gard  and  other  busi- 
ness with  the  passionate  zeal  of  one  who  had 
determined  to  make  amends  in  one  year  for  the 
neglect  of  many  ;  and,  indeed,  there  were  those 
who  said  that  this  was  imperative. 


THE  RAILROAD  AND   THE   CHURCHYARD.      241 

Bailroad  operations  in  the  valley  began  very- 
soon.  As  the  line  was  to  go  directly  past  Lars's 
gard,  he  tore  down  the  portion  of  his  house 
that  faced  the  road,  in  order  to  build  a  large 
and  handsome  balcony,  for  he  was  determined 
that  his  gard  should  attract  attention.  This 
work  was  just  being  done  when  the  temporary 
rails  for  the  conveyance  of  gravel  and  timber 
to  the  road  were  laid  and  a  small  locomotive 
was  sent  to  the  spot.  It  was  a  beautiful  au- 
tumn evening  that  the  first  gravel  car  was  to 
pass  over  the  road.  Lars  stood  on  his  front 
steps,  to  hear  the  first  signal  and  to  see  the  first 
column  of  smoke  ;  all  the  people  of  the  gard 
were  gathered  about  him.  He  gazed  over  the 
parish,  illumined  by  the  setting  sun,  and  he 
felt  that  he  would  be  remembered  as  long  as  a 
train  should  come  roaring  through  this  fertile 
valley.  A  sense  of  forgiveness  glided  into  his 
soul.  He  looked  toward  the  churchyard,  a  part 
of  which  still  remained,  with  crosses  bowed 
down  to  the  ground,  but  a  part  of  it  was  now 
the  railroad.  He  was  just  endeavoring  to 
define  his  own  feeling  when  the  first  signal 
whistled,  and  presently  the  train  came  slowly 
working  its  way  along,  attended  by  a  cloud  of 
smoke,  mingled  with  sparks,  for  the  locomotive 
Was  fed  with  pine  wood.     The  wind  blew  to- 

16 


242       THE   RAILROAD   AND    THE   CHURCHYARD. 

ward  the  house  so  that  those  standing  without 
were  soon  enveloped  in  a  dense  smoke,  but  as 
this  cleared  away  Lars  saw  the  train  working 
its  way  down  through  the  valley  like  a  strong 
will. 

He  was  content,  and  entered  his  house  like 
one  who  has  come  from  a  long  day's  work. 
The  image  of  his  grandfather  stood  before  him 
at  this  moment.  This  grandfather  had  raised 
the  family  from  poverty  to  prosperity ;  true,  a 
portion  of  his  honor  as  a  citizen  was  consumed 
in  the  act,  but  he  "had  advanced  nevertheless  ! 
His  faults  were  the  prevailing  ones  of  his  time: 
they  were  based  on  the  uncertain  boundary 
lines  of  the  moral  conceptions  of  his  day. 
Every  age  has  its  uncertain  moral  distinctions 
and  its  victims  to  the  endeavor  to  define  them 
properly. 

Honor  be  to  him  in  his  grave,  for  he  had  suf- 
fered and  toiled  !  Peace  be  with  him  !  It  must 
be  good  to  rest  in  the  end.  But  he  was  not 
allowed  to  rest  because  of  his  grandson's  vast 
ambition  ;  his  ashes  were  thrown  up  Math  tin; 
stones  and  the  gravel.  Nonsense  !  he  would 
only  smile  that  his  grandson's  work  passed  over 
his  head. 

Amid  thoughts  like  these  Lars  had  undressed 
and  gone  to  bed.     Once  more  his  grandfather's 


THE   RAILROAD   AND   THE   CHURCHYARD.      243 

image  glided  before  him.  It  was  sterner  now 
than  the  first  time.  Weariness  enfeebles  us, 
and  Lars  began  to  reproach  himself.  Bat  he 
defended  himself  also.  What  did  his  grand- 
father want  ?  Surely  he  ought  to  be  satisfied 
now,  for  the  family  honor  was  proclaimed  in 
loud  tones  above  his  grave.  Who  else  had  such 
a  monument  ?  And  yet  what  is  this  ?  These 
two  monstrous  eyes  of  fire  and  this  hissing, 
roaring  sound  belong  no  longer  to  the  loco- 
motive, for  they  turn  away  from  the  railroad 
track.  And  from  the  churchyard  straight  to- 
ward the  house  comes  an  immense  procession. 
The  eyes  of  fire  are  his  grandfather's,  and  the 
long  line  of  followers  are  all  the  dead.  The 
train  advances  steadily  toward  the  gard,  roar- 
ing, crackling,  flashing.  The  windows  blaze 
in  the  reflection  of  the  dead  men's  eyes.  Lais 
made  a  mighty  effort  to  control  himself,  for 
this  was  a  dream,  unquestionably  but  a  dream. 
Only  wait  until  I  am  awake  !  There,  now  I  am 
awake.     Come  on,  poor  ghosts  ! 

And  lo !  they  really  did  come  from  the 
churchyard,  overthrowing  road,  rails,  locomo- 
tive and  train,  so  that  these  fell  with  a  mighty 
crash  to  the  ground,  and  the  green  sod  ap- 
peared in  their  stead,  dotted  with  graves  and 
crosses  as  before.    Like  mighty  champions  they 


244      THE   RAILROAD   AND   THE   CHURCHYARD. 

advanced,  and  the  hymn,  "  Let  the  dead  repose 
in  peace  !  "  preceded  them.  Lars  knew  it ; 
for  through  all  these  years  it  had  been  sighing 
within  his  soul,  and  now  it  had  become  his  re- 
quiem ;  for  this  was  death  and  death's  visions. 
The  cold  sweat  started  out  over  his  whole  body, 
for  nearer  and  nearer  —  and  behold,  on  the 
window  pane !  there  they  are  now,  and  he 
heard  some  one  speak  his  name.  Overpowered 
with  dread  he  struggled  to  scream  ;  for  he  was 
being  strangled,  a  cold  hand  was  clinching  his 
throat  and  he  regained  his  voice  in  an  ago- 
nized :  "  Help  me  ! "  and  awoke.  The  win- 
dow had  been  broken  in  from  the  outside ;  the 
pieces  flew  all  about  his  head.  He  sprang  up. 
A  man  stood  at  the  window,  surrounded  by 
smoke  and  flames. 

"  The  gard  is  on  fire,  Lars !  We  will  help 
you  out ! " 

It  was  Knud  Aakre. 

AVhen  Lars  regained  his  consciousness,  lie 
was  lying  outside  in  a  bleak  wind,  which  chilled 
his  limbs.  There  was  not  a  soul  with  him  ;  he 
saw  the  flaming  gard  to  the  left ;  around  him 
his  cattle  were  grazing  and  making  their  voices 
heard  ;  the  sheep  were  huddled  together  in  a 
frightened  flock  ;  the  household  goods  were 
scattered  about,  and  when  he  looked  again  he 


THE   RAILROAD  AND   THE   CHURCHYARD.      245 

saw  some  one  sitting  on  a  knoll  close  by,  weep- 
ing. It  was  bis  wife.  He  called  her  by  name. 
She  started. 

"  The  Lord  Jesus  be  praised  that  you  are 
alive  !  "  cried  she,  coming  forward  and  seating 
herself,  or  rather  throwing  herself  down  in 
front  of  him.  "  O  God  !  O  God  !  We  surely 
have  had  enough  of  this  railroad  now  !  " 

"  The  railroad  ?  "  asked  he,  but  ere  the  words 
had  escaped  his  lips,  a  clear  comprehension  of 
the  case  passed  like  a  shudder  over  him  ;  for, 
of  course,  sparks  from  the  locomotive  that  had 
fallen  among  the  shavings  of  the  new  side  wall 
had  been  the  cause  of  the  fire.  Lars  sat  there 
brooding  in  silence;  his  wife,  not  daring  to  utter 
another  word,  began  to  search  for  his  clothes  ; 
for  what  she  had  spread  over  him,  as  he  lay 
senseless,  had  fallen  off.  He  accepted  her  atten- 
tions in  silence,  but  as  she  knelt  before  him  to 
cover  his  feet,  he  laid  his  hand  on  her  head. 
Falling  forward  she  buried  her  face  in  his  lap 
and  wept  aloud.  There  were  many  who  eyed 
her  curiously.  But  Lars  understood  her  and 
said, — 

"  You  are  the  only  friend  I  have." 

Even  though  it  had  cost  the  gard  to  hear 
these  words,  it  mattered  not  to  her  ;  she  felt  so 
happy  that  she  gained  courage,  and  rising  up 


246       THE   RAILROAD   AND    THE   CHURCHYARD. 

and  looking  humbly  into  her  husband's  face, 
she  said, — 

"  Because  there  is  no  one  else  who  under- 
stands you." 

Then  a  hard  heart  melted,  and  tears  rolled 
down  the  man's  cheeks  as  he  clung  to  his  wife's 
hand. 

Now  he  talked  to  her  as  to  his  own  soul. 
Now  too  she  opened  to  him  her  mind.  They 
also  talked  about  how  all  this  had  happened,  or 
rnther  he  listened  while  she  told  about  it. 
Knud  Aakre  had  been  the  first  to  see  the  fire, 
had  roused  his  people,  sent  the  girls  out  over 
Ills  parish,  while  he  had  hastened  himself  with 
men  and  horses  to  the  scene  of  the  conflagra- 
tion, where  all  were  sleeping.  He  had  engi- 
neered the  extinguishing  of  the  flames  and  the 
rescuing  of  the  household  goods,  and  had  him- 
self dragged  Lars  from  the  burning  room,  and 
carried  him  to  the  left  side  of  the  house  from 
where  the  wind  was  blowing  and  had  laid  him 
out  here  in  the  churchyard. 

And  while  they  were  talking  of  this,  some 
Dne  came  driving  rapidly  up  the  road  and 
turned  into  the  churchyard,  where  he  alighted. 
It  was  Knud,  who  had  been  home  after  his 
church-cart,  —  the  one  in  which  they  had  so 
many  times  ridden    together  to  and   from  the 


THE   RAILROAD   AND    THE   CHURCHYARD.      247 

meetings  of  the  parish  board.  Now  he  re- 
quested Lars  to  get  in  and  ride  home  with  him. 
They  grasped  each  other  by  the  hand,  the  one 
sitting,  the  other  standing. 

"  Come  with  me  now,"  said  Knud. 

Without  a  word  of  reply,  Lars  rose.  Side  by 
side  they  walked  to  the  cart.  Lars  was  helped 
in  ;  Knud  sat  down  beside  him.  What  they 
talked  about  as  they  drove  along,  or  afterwards 
in  the  little  chamber  at  Aakre,  where  they  re- 
mained together  until  late  in  the  morning,  has 
never  been  known.  But  from  that  day  they 
were  inseparable  as  before. 

As  soon  as  misfortune  overtakes  a  man, 
every  one  learns  what  he  is  worth.  And  so  the 
parish  undertook  to  rebuild  Lars  Hogstad's 
houses,  and  to  make  them  larger  and  hand- 
somer than  any  others  in  the  valley.  He  was 
reelected  chairman,  but  with  Knud  Aakre  at 
his  side  ;  he  never  again  failed  to  take  counsel 
of  Knud's  intelligence  and  heart  —  and  from 
that  day  forth  nothing  went  to  ruin. 


THROND. 


There  was  once  a  man  named  Alf,  who  had 
raised  great  expectations  among  his  fellow-par- 
ishioners because  he  excelled  most  of  them  both 
in  the  work  he  accomplished  and  in  the  advice 
he  gave.  Now  when  this  man  was  thirty  years 
old,  he  went  to  live  up  the  mountain  and  cleared 
a  piece  of  land  for  farming,  about  fourteen 
miles  from  any  settlement.  Many  people  won- 
dered how  he  could  endure  thus  depending  on 
himself  for  companionship,  but  they  were  still 
more  astonished  when,  a  few  years  later,  a 
young  girl  from  the  valley,  and  one,  too,  who 
had  been  the  gayest  of  the  gay  at  all  the  social 
gatherings  and  dances  of  the  parish,  was  will- 
ing to  share  his  solitude. 

This  couple  were  called  "  the  people  in  the 
wood,"  and  the  man  was  known  by  the  name 
"Alf  in  the  wood."  People  viewed  him  with 
inquisitive  eyes  when  they  met  him  at  church 
or  at  work,  because   they  did   not  understand 


THROND.  249 

him ;  but  neither  did  he  take  the  trouble  to 
give  them  any  explanation  of  his  conduct.  His 
wife  was  only  seen  in  the  parish  twice,  and  on 
one  of  these  occasions  it  was  to  present  a  child 
for  baptism. 

This  child  was  a  son,  and  he  was  called 
Thrond.  When  he  grew  larger  his  parents 
often  talked  about  needing  help,  and  as  they 
could  not  afford  to  take  a  full-grown  servant, 
they  hired  what  they  called  "  a  half  :  "  they 
brought  into  their  house  a  girl  of  fourteen,  who 
took  care  of  the  boy  while  the  father  and 
mother  were  busy  in  the  field. 

This  girl  was  not  the  brightest  person  in  the 
world,  and  the  boy  soon  observed  that  his  moth- 
er's words  were  easy  to  comprehend,  but  that  it 
was  hard  to  get  at  the  meaning  of  what  Ragn- 
hild  said.  He  never  talked  much  with  his 
father,  and  he  was  rather  afraid  of  him,  for  the 
house  had  to  be  kept  very  quiet  when  he  was 
at  home. 

One  Christmas  Eve  —  they  were  burning 
two  candles  on  the  table,  and  the  father  was 
drinking  from  a  white  flask  —  the  father  took 
the  boy  up  in  his  arms  and  set  him  on  his 
lap,  looked  him  sternly  in  the  eyes  and  ex- 
claimed, — 

"  Ugh,  boy  !  "     Tl'en  hQ  added  more  gently : 


'*' 


250  THEOND. 

"  Why,  you  are  not  so  much  afraid.   Would  you 
have  the  courage  to  listen  to  a  story  ?  " 

The  boy  made  no  reply,  but  he  looked  full  in 
his  father's  face.  His  father  then  told  him 
about  a  man  from  Vaage,  whose  name  was 
Blessom.  This  man  was  in  Copenhagen  for 
the  purpose  of  getting  the  king's  verdict  in  a 
law-suit  he  was  engaged  in,  and  he  was  detained 
so  long  that  Christmas  Eve  overtook  him  there. 
Blessom  was  greatly  annoyed  at  this,  and  as  he 
was  sauntering  about  the  streets  fancying  him- 
self at  home,  he  saw  a  very  large  man,  in  a 
white,  short  coat,  walking  in  front  of  him. 

"  How  fast  you  are  walking  !  "  said  Blessom. 

"  I  have  a  long  distance  to  go  in  order  to  get 
home  this  evening,"  replied  the  man. 

"  Where  are  you  going  ?  " 

"  To  Vaage,"  answered  the  man,  and  walked 
on. 

"Why,  that  is  very  nice,"  said  Blessom, 
"  for  that  is  where  I  was  going,  too." 

"  Well,  then,  you  may  ride  with  me,  if  you 
will  stand  on  the  runners  of  my  sledge,"  an- 
swered the  man,  and  turned  into  a  side  street 
where  his  horse  was  standing. 

He  mounted  his  seat  and  looked  over  his 
shoulder  at  Blessom,  who  was  just  getting  on 
the  runners. 


THROND.  251 

"  You  had  better  bold  fast,"  said  tbe  stran- 
ger. 

Blessom  did  as  be  was  told,  and  it  was  well 
he  did,  for  tbeir  journey  was  evidently  v.ot  by 
land. 

"  It  seems  to  me  that  you  are  driving  on  the 
water,"  cried  Blessom. 

"  I  am,"  said  tbe  man,  and  tbe  spray  whirled 
about  them. 

But  after  a  while  it  seemed  to  Blessom  theii 
course  no  longer  lay  on  the  water. 

"  It  seems  to  me  we  are  moving  through  the 
air,"  said  he. 

"  Yes,  so  we  are,"  replied  the  stranger. 

But  when  they  had  gone  still  farther,  Bles- 
som thought  he  recognized  the  parish  they  were 
driving  through. 

"  Is  not  this  Vaage  ?  "  cried  he. 

"  Yes,  now  we  are  there,"  replied  the  stran- 
ger, and  it  seemed  to  Blessom  that  they  had 
gone  pretty  fast. 

"Thank  you  for  tbe  good  ride,"  said  be. 

"  Thanks  to  yourself,"  replied  the  man,  and 
added,  as  he  whipped  up  his  horse,  "  Now  you 
had  better   lot  look  after  me." 

"  No,  indeed,"  thought  Blessom,  and  started 
over  the  hills  for  home. 

But  just  then  so  loud  and   terrible  a  crash 


252  THROND. 

was  heard  behind  him  that  it  seemed  as  if  the 
whole  mountain  must  be  tumbling  down,  and 
a  bright  light  was  shed  over  the  surrounding 
landscape ;  he  looked  round  and  beheld  the 
stranger  in  the  white  coat  driving  through  the 
crackling  flames  into  the  open  mountain,  which 
was  yawning  wide  to  receive  him,  like  some 
huge  gate.  Blessom  felt  somewhat  strange  in 
regard  to  his  traveling  companion;  and  thought 
he  would  look  in  another  direction  ;  but  as  he 
had  turned  his  head  so  it  remained,  and  never 
more  could  Blessom  get  it  straight  again. 

The  boy  had  never  heard  anything  to  equal 
this  in  all  his  life.  He  dared  not  ask  his  father 
for  more,  but  early  the  next  morning  he  asked 
his  mother  if  she  knew  any  stories.  Yes,  of 
course  she  did ;  but  hers  were  chiefly  about 
jjrincesses  who  were  in  captivity  for  seven 
years,  until  the  right  prince  came  along.  The 
boy  believed  that  everything  he  heard  or  read 
about  took  place  close  ai'ound  him. 

He  was  about  eight  years  old  when  the  first 
stranger  entered  their  door  one  winter  evening. 
He  had  black  hair,  and  this  was  something 
Thrond  had  never  seen  before.  The  stranger 
saluted  them  with  a  short  "  Good-evening  '  " 
and  came  forward.  Thrond  grew  frightened 
*nd  sat  down  on  a  cricket  bv  the  hearth.     The 


THROND.  253 

mother  asked  the  man  to  take  a  seat  on  the 
bench  along  the  wall ;  he  did  so,  and  then  the 
mother  could  examine  his  face  more  closely. 

"Dear  me!  is  not  this  Knud  the  fiddler?" 
cried  she. 

"  Yes,  to  be  sure  it  is.  It  has  been  a  long 
time  since  I  played  at  your  wedding." 

"  Oh,  yes  ;  it  is  quite  a  while  now.  Have 
you  been  on  a  long  journey  ?  " 

"  I  have  been  playing  for  Christmas,  on  the 
other  side  of  the  mountain.  But  half  way 
down  the  slope  1  began  to  feel  very  badly,  and 
I  was  obliged  to  come  in  here  to  rest." 

The  mother  brought  forward  food  for  him  ; 
he  sat  down  to  the  table,  but  did  not  say  "  in 
the  name  of  Jesus,"  as  the  boy  had  been  accus- 
tomed to  hear.  When  he  had  finished  eating, 
he  got  up  from  the  table,  and  said,  — 

"  Now  I  feel  very  comfortable  ;  let  me  rest  a 
little  while." 

And  he  was  allowed  to  rest  on  Thrond's  bed. 

For  Thrond  a  bed  was  made  on  the  floor. 
As  the  boy  lay  there,  he  felt  cold  on  the  side 
that  was  turned  away  from  the  fire,  and  that 
was  the  left  side.  He  discovered  that  it  was 
because  this  side  was  exposed  to  the  chill  night 
air  ;  for  he  was  lying  out  in  the  wood.  How 
came  he  in  the  wood  ?     He  got  up  and  looked 


254  THROND. 

about  him,  and  saw  that  there  was  fire  burning 
a  long  distance  off,  and  that  he  was  actually 
alone  in  the  wood.  He  longed  to  go  home  to 
the  fire  ;  but  could  not  stir  from  the  spot. 
Then  a  great  fear  overcame  him;  L.-  wild 
beasts  might  be  roaming  about,  trolls  and  ghosts 
might  appear  to  him ;  he  must  get  home  to  the 
fire ;  but  he  could  not  stir  from  the  spot.  Then 
his  terror  grew,  he  strove  with  all  his  might  to 
gain  self-control,  and  was  at  last  able  to  cry, 
"  Mother,"  and  then  he  awoke. 

"  Dear  child,  you  have  had  bad  dreams," 
said  she,  and  took  him  up. 

A  shudder  ran  through  him,  and  he  glanced 
round.  The  stranger  was  gone,  and  he  dared 
not  inquire  after  him. 

His  mother  appeared  in  her  black  dress,  and 
started  for  the  parish.  She  came  home  with 
two  new  strangers,  who  also  had  black  hair 
and  who  wore  flat  caps.  They  did  not  say  "  in 
the  name  of  Jesus,"  when  they  ate,  and  they 
talked  in  low  tones  with  the  father.  After- 
ward the  latter  and  they  went  into  the  barn, 
and  came  out  again  with  a  large  box,  which 
the  men  carried  between  them.  They  placed  it 
on  a  sled,  and  said  farewell.  Then  the  mother 
said  :  — 

"  Wait  a  little,  and  take  with  you  the  smallei 
box  he  brought  here  with  him." 


THROND.  255 

And  she  went  in  to  get  it.  But  one  of  the. 
men  said,  — 

"  He  can  have  that,"  and  he  pointed  at 
Thrond. 

"Use  it  as  well  as  he  who  is  now  lying  here," 
added  the  other  stranger,  pointing  at  the  large 
box. 

Then  they  both  laughed  and  went  on. 
Thrond  looked  at  the  little  box  which  hus 
came  into  his  possession. 

"  What  is  there  in  it  ?  "  asked  he. 

"  Carry  it  in  and  find  out,"  said  the  mother. 

He  did  as  he  was  told,  but  his  mother  helped 
him  open  it.  Then  a  great  joy  lighted  up  his 
face;  for  he  saw  something  very  light  and  fine 
lying  there. 

"  Take  it  up,"  said  his  mother. 

He  put  just  one  finger  down  on  it,  but  quickly 
drew  it  back  again,  in  great  alarm. 

"  It  cries,"  said  he. 

"Have  courage,"  said  his  mother,  and  he 
grasped  it  with  his  whole  hand  and  drew  it 
forth  from  the  box. 

He  weighed  it  and  turned  it  round,  he 
laughed  and  felt  of  it. 

"  Dear  me  !  what  is  it  ? "  asked  he,  for  it 
was  as  light  as  a  toy. 

"  It  is  a  fiddle." 


256  THROND. 

This  was  the  way  that  Thrond  Alfson  got 
his  first  violin. 

The  father  could  play  a  little,  and  he  taught 
the  boy  how  to  handle  the  instrument ;  the 
mother  could  sing  the  tunes  she  remembered 
from  her  dancing  days,  and  these  the  boy 
learned,  but  soon  began  to  make  new  ones  for 
himself.  He  played  all  the  time  he  was  not  at 
his  books ;  he  played  until  his  father  once  told 
him  he  was  fading  away  before  his  eyes.  All 
the  boy  had  read  and  heard  until  that  time  was 
put  into  the  fiddle.  The  tender,  delicate  string 
was  his  mother ;  the  one  that  lay  close  beside 
it,  and  always  accompanied  his  mother,  was 
Ragnhild.  The  coarse  string,  which  he  seldom 
ventured  to  play  on,  was  his  father.  But  of  the 
last  solemn  string  he  was  half  afraid,  and  he 
gave  no  name  to  it.  When  he  played  a  wrong 
note  on  the  E  string,  it  was  the  cat ;  but  when 
he  took  a  wrong  note  on  his  father's  string,  it 
was  the  ox.  The  bow  was  Blessom,  who  drove 
from  Copenhagen  to  Vaage  in  one  night.  And 
every  tune  he  played  represented  something. 
The  one  containing  the  long  solemn  tones  was 
his  mother  in  her  black  dress.  The  one  that 
jerked  and  skipped  was  like  Moses,  who  stut- 
tered and  smote  the  rock  with  his  staff.  The 
one  that  had  to  be  played  quietly,  with  the  bow 


THROND.  257 

moving  lightly  over  the  strings,  was  the  hulder 
in  yonder  fog,  calling  together  her  cattle,  where 
no  one  but  herself  could  see. 

But  the  music  wafted  him  onward  over  the 
mountains,  and  a  great  yearning  took  posses- 
sion of  his  soul.  One  day  when  his  father  told 
about  a  little  boy  who  had  been  playing  at  the 
fair  and  who  had  earned  a  great  deal  of  money, 
Thrond  waited  for  his  mother  in  the  kitchen 
and  asked  her  softly  if  he  could  not  go  to  the 
fair  and  play  for  people. 

"  Who  ever  heard  of  such  a  thing  !  "  said  his 
mother ;  but  she  immediately  spoke  to  his  fa- 
ther about  it. 

"He  will  get  out  into  the  world  soon  enough," 
answered  the  father ;  and  he  spoke  in  such  a 
way  that  the  mother  did  not  ask  again. 

Shortly  after  this,  the  father  and  mother 
were  talking  at  table  about  some  new  settlers 
who  had  recently  moved  up  on  the  mountain 
and  were  about  to  be  married.  They  had  no 
fiddler  for  the  wedding,  the  father  said. 

"  Could  not  I  be  the  fiddler?  "  whispered  the 
boy,  when  he  was  alone  in  the  kitchen  once 
more  with  his  mother. 

"  What,  a  little  boy  like  you  ?  "  said  she  ;  but 
she  went  out  to  the  barn  where  his  father  was 
and  told  him  -about  it. 
17 


258  THROND. 

"  He  has  never  been  in  the  parish,"  she 
added,  "  he  has  never  seen  a  church." 

"  I  should  not  think  you  would  ask  about 
such  things,"  said  Alf  ;  but  neither  did  he  say 
anything  more,  and  so  the  mother  thought  she 
had  permission.  Consequently  she  went  over 
to  the  new  settlers  and  offered  the  boy's  serv- 
ices. 

"  The  way  he  plays,"  said  she,  "  no  little 
boy  has  ever  played  before ; "  and  the  boy 
was  to  be  allowed  to  come. 

What  joy  there  was  at  home !  Thrond 
played  from  morning  until  evening  and  prac- 
ticed new  tunes ;  at  night  he  dreamed  about 
them  :  they  bore  him  far  over  the  hills,  away 
to  foreign  lands,  as  though  he  were  afloat  on 
sailing  clouds.  His  mother  made  a  new  suit  of 
clothes  for  him  ;  but  his  father  would  not  take 
part  in  what  was  going  on. 

The  last  night  he  did  not  sleep,  but  thought 
out  a  new  tune  about  the  church  which  he  had 
never  seen.  He  was  up  early  in  the  morning, 
and  so  was  his  mother,  in  order  to  get  him  his 
breakfast,  but  he  could  not  eat.  He  put  on 
his  new  clothes  and  took  his  fiddle  in  his  hand, 
and  it  seemed  to  him  as  though  a  bright  light 
were  glowing  before  his  eyes.  His  mother  ac- 
companied him  out  on  the  flng-stone,  and  stood 


THROND.  259 

watching  hiui  as  lie  ascended  the  slopes  ;  —  it 
was  the  first  time  he  had  left  home. 

His  father  got  quietly  out  of  bed  and  walked 
to  the  window  ;  he  stood  there  following  the 
boy  with  his  eyes  until  he  heard  the  mother 
out  on  the  flag-stone,  then  he  went  back  to  bed 
and  was  lying  down  when  she  came  in. 

She  kept  stirring  about  him,  as  if  she  wanted 
to  relieve  her  mind  of  something.  And  finally 
it  came  out :  — 

"  I  really  think  I  must  walk  down  to  the 
church  and  see  how  things  are  going." 

He  made  no  reply,  and  therefore  she  con- 
sidered the  matter  settled,  dressed  herself  and 
started. 

It  was  a  glorious,  sunny  day,  the  boy  walked 
rapidly  onward;  he  listened  to  the  song  of  the 
birds  and  saw  the  sun  glittering  among  the 
foliage,  while  he  proceeded  on  his  way,  with 
liis  fiddle  under  his  arm.  And  when  he  reached 
the  bride's  house,  he  was  still  so  occupied  with 
his  own  thoughts,  that  he  observed  neither  the 
bridal  splendor  nor  the  procession  ;  he  merely 
asked  if  they  were  about  to  start,  and  learned 
that  they  were.  He  walked  on  in  advance  with 
his  fiddle,  and  he  played  the  whole  morning 
into  it,  and  the  tones  he  produced  resounded 
through  the  trees. 


260  THROND. 

"  WiU  ^re  soon  see  the  church  ?  "  he  asked 
over  his  shoulder. 

For  a  long  time  he  received  only  "  No  "  for 
an  answer,  but  at  last  some  one  said : 

"  As  soon  as  you  reach  that  crag  yonder,  you 
will  see  it." 

He  threw  his  newest  tune  into  the  fiddle,  the 
bow  danced  on  the  strings,  and  he  kept  his 
eyes  fixed  intently  before  him.  There  lay  the 
parish  right  in  front  of  him  ! 

The  first  thing  he  saw  was  a  little  light 
mist,  curling  like  smoke  on  the  opposite  mount- 
ain side.  His  eyes  wandered  over  the  green 
meadow  and  the  large  houses,  with  windows 
which  glistened  beneath  the  scorching  rays  of 
the  sun,  like  the  glacier  on  a  winter's  day.  The 
houses  kept  increasing  in  size,  the  windows  in 
number,  and  here  on  one  side  of  him  lay  the 
enormous  red  house,  in  front  of  which  horses 
were  tied ;  little  children  were  playing  on  a  hill, 
dogs  were  sitting  watching  them.  But  every- 
where there  penetrated  a  long,  heavy  tone,  that 
shook  him  from  head  to  foot,  and  everything  he 
saw  seemed  to  vibrate  with  that  tone.  Then 
suddenly  lie  saw  a  large,  straight  house,  with  a 
tall,  glittering  staff  reaching  up  to  the  skies. 
And  below,  a  hundred  windows  blazed,  so  that 
the  house  seemed  to  be  enveloped  in  flames. 


THROXD.  261 

This  must  be  the  church,  the  boy  thought,  and 
the  music  must  come  from  it !  Round  about 
stood  a  vast  multitude  of  people,  and  they  all 
looked  alike  !  He  put  them  forthwith  into  re- 
lations with  the  church,  and  thus  acquired  a 
respect  mingled  with  awe  for  the  smallest  child 
he  saw. 

"  Now  I  must  play,"  thought  Thrond,  and 
tried  to  do  so. 

But  what  was  this  ?  The  fiddle  had  no 
longer  any  sound  in  it.  There  must  be  some 
defect  in  the  strings  ;  he  examined,  but  could 
find  none. 

"  Then  it  must  be  because  I  do  not  press  on 
hard  enough,  and  he  drew  his  bow  with  a 
firmer  hand;  but  the  fiddle  seemed  as  if  it  were 
cracked. 

He  changed  the  tune  that  was  meant  to  rep- 
resent  the  church  into  another,  but  with  equal- 
ly bad  results ;  no  music  was  produced,  only 
squeaking  and  wailing.  He  felt  the  cold  sweat 
start  out  over  his  face,  he  thought  of  all  these 
wise  people  who  were  standing  here  and  per- 
haps laughing  him  to  scorn,  this  boy  who  at 
home  could  play  so  beautifully  but  who  here 
failed  to  bring  out  a  single  tone ! 

"  Thank  God  that  mother  is  not  here,  to  see 
my  shame  !  "  said  he  softly  to  himself,  as  he 


262  THROND. 

played  among  the  people ;  but  lo !  there  she 
stood,  in  her  black  dress,  and  she  shrank  farther 
and  farther  away. 

At  that  moment  he  beheld  far  up  on  the 
spire,  the  black-haired  man  who  had  given  him 
the  fiddle.  "  Give  it  back  to  me,"  he  now 
shouted,  laughing  and  stretching  out  his  arms, 
and  the  spire  went  up  and  down  with  him,  up 
and  down.  But  the  boy  took  the  fiddle  under 
one  arm,  screaming,  "  You  shall  not  have  it !  " 
and  turning,  ran  awa}^  from  the  people,  beyond 
the  houses,  onward  through  meadow  and  field, 
until  his  strength  forsook  him,  and  then  sank 
to  the  ground. 

There  he  lay  for  a  long  time,  with  his  face 
toward  the  earth,  and  when  finally  he  looked 
round  he  saw  and  heard  only  God's  infinite 
blue  sky  that  floated  above  him,  with  its  ever- 
lasting sough.  This  was  so  terrible  to  him  that 
he  had  to  turn  his  face  to  the  ground  again. 
When  he  raised  his  head  once  more  his  eyes 
fell  on  his  fiddle,  which  lay  at  his  side. 

"This  is  all  your  fault!"  shouted  the  boy, 
and  seized  the  instrument  with  the  intention  of 
dashing  it  to  pieces,  but  hesitated  as  he  looked 
at  it. 

"We  have  had  many  a  happy  hour  together," 
said  he,  then  paused.    Presently  he  said  :  "The 


THROND.  263 

strings  must  be  severed,  for  they  are  worth- 
less." And  he  took  out  a  knife  and  cut. 
"  Oh ! "  cried  the  E  string,  in  a  short,  pained 
tone.  The  boy  cut.  "  Oh  !  "  wailed  the  next; 
but  the  boy  cut.  "  Oh  !  "  said  the  third, 
mournfully  ;  and  he  paused  at  the  fourth.  A 
sharp  pain  seized  him  ;  that  fourth  string,  to 
which  he  never  dared  give  a  name,  he  did  not 
cut.  Now  a  feeling  came  over  him  that  it  was 
not  the  fault  of  the  strings  that  he  was  unable 
to  play,  and  just  then  he  saw  his  mother  walk- 
ing slowly  up  the  slope  toward  where  he  was 
lying,  that  she  might  take  him  home  with  her. 
A  greater  fright  than  ever  overcame  him  ;  he 
held  the  fiddle  by  the  severed  strings,  sprang  to 
his  feet,  and  shouted  down  to  her,  — 

"No,  mother!  I  will  not  go  home  again  until 
I  can  play  what  I  have  seen  to-day." 


A   DANGEROUS   WOOING. 


When"  Aslaug  had  become  a  grown-up  girl, 
there  was  not  much  peace  to  be  had  at  Huseby ; 
for  there  the  finest  boys  in  the  parish  quarreled 
and  fought  night  after  night.  It  was  worst  of 
all  on  Saturday  nights  ;  but  then  old  Knud 
Huseby  never  went  to  bed  without  keeping  his 
leather  breeches  on,  nor  without  having  a  birch 
stick  by  his  bedside. 

"  If  I  have  a  daughter,  I  shall  look  after  her, 
too,"  said  old  Huseby. 

Thore  Nseset  was  only  a  houseman's  son ; 
nevertheless  there  were  those  who  said  that  he 
was  the  one  who  came  oftenest  to  see  the  gard- 
man's  daughter  at  Huseby.  Old  Knud  did  not 
like  this,  and  declared  also  that  it  was  not  true, 
"for  he  had  never  seen  him  there."  But  peo- 
ple smiled  slyly  among  themselves,  and  thought 
that  had  he  searched  in  the  corners  of  the  room 
instead  of  fighting  with  all  those  who  were 
making  a  noise  and  uproar  in  the  middle  of  the 
floor,  he  would  have  found  Thore. 


A  DANGEROUS   WOOING.  265 

Spring  came  and  Aslaug  went  to  the  sseter 
with  the  cattle.  Then,  when  the  day  was 
warm  down  in  the  valley,  and  the  mountain 
rose  cool  above  the  haze,  and  when  the  bells 
tinkled,  the  shepherd  dog  barked,  and  Aslaug 
sang  and  blew  the  loor  on  the  mountain  side, 
then  the  hearts  of  the  young  fellows  who  were 
at  work  down  on  the  meadow  would  ache,  and 
the  first  Saturday  night  they  all  started  up  to 
the  mountain  saater,  one  faster  than  the  other. 
But  still  more  rapidly  did  they  come  down 
again,  for  behind  the  door  at  the  saster  there 
stood  one  who  received  each  of  them  as  he 
came,  and  gave  him  so  sound  a  whipping  that 
he  forever  afterward  remembered  the  threat 
that  followed  it,  — 

"  Come  again  another  time  and  you  shall 
have  some  more." 

According  to  what  these  young  fellows  knew, 
there  was  only  one  in  the  parish  who  could  use 
his  fists  in  this  way,  and  that  was  Thore  Naeset. 
And  these  rich  gardmen's  sons  thought  it  was 
a  shame  that  this  houseman's  son  should  cut 
them  all  out  at  the  Huseby  soeter. 

So  thought,  also,  old  Knud,  when  the  matter 
reached  his  ears,  and  said,  moreover,  that  if 
there  was  nobody  else  who  could  tackle  Thore, 
then  he  and  his  sons  would  try  it.     Knud,  it  is 


266  A   DANGEROUS   WOOING. 

true,  was  growing  old,  but  although  he  was 
nearly  sixty,  he  would  at  times  have  a  wrestle 
or  two  with  his  eldest  son,  when  it  was  too  dull 
for  him  at  some  party  or  other. 

Up  to  the  Huseb}^  saeter  there  was  but  one 
road,  and  that  led  straight  through  the  gard. 
The  next  Saturday  evening,  as  Thore  was  going 
to  the  sseter,  and  was  stealing  on  his  tiptoes 
across  the  yard,  a  man  rushed  right  at  his 
breast  as  he  came  near  the  barn. 

"  What  do  you  want  of  me  ?  "  said  Thore, 
and  knocked  his  assailant  flat  on  the  ground. 

"  That  you  shall  soon  find  out,"  said  another 
fellow  from  behind,  giving  Thore  a  blow  on  the 
back  of  the  head.  This  was  the  brother  of  the 
former  assailant. 

"  Here  comes  the  third,"  said  old  Knud,  rush- 
ing forward  to  join  the  fray. 

The  danger  made  Thore  stronger.  He  was 
as  limber  as  a  willow  and  his  blows  left  their 
marks.  He  dodged  from  one  side  to  the  other. 
Where  the  blows  fell  he  was  not,  and  where 
his  opponents  least  expected  blows  from  him, 
they  got  them.  He  was,  however,  at  last  com- 
pletely beaten;  but  old  Knud  frequently  said 
afterwards  that  a  stouter  fellow  he  had  scarcely 
ever  tackled.  The  fight  was  continued  untiJ 
blood  flowed,  but  then  Huseby  cried,  — 


A  DANGEROUS   WOOING.  267 

"  Stop  !  "  and  added,  "  If  you  can  manage  to 
get  by  the  Huseby  wolf  and  his  cubs  next  Sat- 
urday night,  the  girl  shall  be  yours." 

Thore  dragged  himself  homeward  as  best  he 
could ;  and  as  soon  as  he  got  home  he  went  to 
bed. 

At  Huseby  there  was  much  talk  about  the 
fight ;  but  everybody  said,  — 

"  What  did  he  want  there  ?  " 

There  was  one,  however,  who  did  not  say  so, 
and  that  was  Aslaug.  She  had  expected  Thore 
that  Saturday  night,  and  when  she  heard  what 
had  taken  place  between  him  and  her  father, 
she  sat  down  and  had  a  good  cry,  saying  to 
herself,  — 

"  If  I  cannot  have  Thore,  there  will  never 
be  another  happy  day  for  me  in  this  world.'' 

Thore  had  to  keep  his  bed  all  day  Sunday  ; 
and  Monday,  too,  he  felt  that  he  must  do  the 
same.  Tuesday  came,  and  it  was  such  a  beau- 
tiful day.  It  had  rained  during  the  night. 
The  mountain  was  wet  and  green.  The  fra- 
grance of  the  leaves  was  wafted  in  through  the 
open  window  ;  down  the  mountain  sides  came 
the  sound  of  the  cow-bells,  and  some  one  was 
heard  singing  up  in  the  glen.  Had  it  not  been 
for  his  mother,  who  was  sitting  in  the  room, 
Thore  would  have  wept  from  impatient  vexa- 
tion. 


268  A   DANGEROUS   WOOING. 

Wednesday  came  and  still  Thore  was  in  bed  ; 
but  on  Thursday  he  began  to  wonder  whether 
he  could  not  get  well  by  Saturday ;  and  on  Fri- 
day he  rose.  He  remembered  well  the  words 
Aslaug's  father  had  spoken  :  "  If  you  can  man- 
age to  get  by  the  Huseby  wolf  and  his  cubs 
next  Saturday,  the  girl  shall  be  yours."  He 
looked  over  toward  the  Huseby  saster  again  and 
again.  "  I  cannot  get  more  than  another 
thrashing,"  thought  Thore. 

Up  to  the  Huseby  soeter  there  was  but  one 
road,  as  before  stated  ;  but  a  clever  fellow  might 
manage  to  get  there,  even  if  he  did  not  take 
the  beaten  track.  If  he  rowed  out  on  the  fjord 
below,  and  past  the  little  tongue  of  land  yon- 
der, and  thus  reached  the  other  side  of  the 
mountain,  he  might  contrive  to  climb  it,  though 
it  was  so  steep  that  a  goat  could  scarcely  ven- 
ture there  —  and  a  goat  is  not  very  apt  to  be 
timid  in  climbing  the  mountains,  you  know. 

Saturday  came,  and  Thore  stayed  without 
doors  all  day  long.  The  sunlight  played  upon 
the  foliage,  and  every  now  and  then  an  allur- 
ing song  was  heard  from  the  mountains.  As 
evening  drew  near,  and  the  mist  was  stealing 
up  the  slope,  he  was  still  sitting  outside  of  the 
door.  He  looked  up  the  mountain,  and  all  was 
still.    He  looked  over  toward  the  Huseby  gavel 


A   DANGEROUS   WOOING.  269 

Then  he  pushed  out  his  boat  and  rowed  round 
the  point  of  land. 

Up  at  the  sffiter  sat  Aslaug,  through  with 
her  day's  work.  She  was  thinking  that  Thore 
would  not  come  this  evening,  hut  that  there 
would  come  all  the  more  in  his  stead.  Pres- 
ently she  let  loose  the  dog,  but  told  no  one 
whither  she  was  going.  She  seated  herself 
where  she  could  look  down  into  the  valley  ; 
but  a  dense  fog  was  rising,  and,  moreover,  she 
felt  little  disposed  to  look  down  that  way,  for 
everything  reminded  her  of  what  had  occurred. 
So  she  moved,  and  without  thinking  what  she 
was  doing,  she  happened  to  go  over  to  the  other 
side  of  the  mountain,  and  there  she  sat  down 
and  gazed  out  over  the  sea.  There  was  so 
much  peace  in  this  far-reaching  sea-view  ! 

Then  she  felt  like  singing.  She  chose  a  song 
with  long  notes,  and  the  music  sounded  far  into 
the  still  night.  She  felt  gladdened  by  it,  and 
so  she  sang  another  verse.  But  then  it  seemed 
to  her  as  if  some  one  answered  her  from  the 
glen  far  below.  "  Dear  me,  what  can  that 
be  ?  "  thought  Aslaug.  She  went  forward  to 
the  brink  of  the  precipice,  and  threw  her  arms 
around  a  slender  birch,  which  hung  trembling- 
over  the  steep.  She  looked  down  but  saw 
nothing.     The  fjord  lay  silent  and  calm.     Not 


270  A  DANGEROUS   WOOING. 

even  a  bird  ruffled  its  smooth  surface.  Aslaug 
sat  down  and  began  singing  again.  Then  she 
was  sure  that  some  one  responded  with  the 
same  tune  and  nearer  than  the  first  time.  "  It 
must  be  somebody,  after  all."  Aslaug  sprang 
up  and  bent  out  over  the  brink  of  the  steep  ; 
and  there,  down  at  the  foot  of  a  rocky  wall, 
she  saw  a  boat  moored,  and  it  was  so  far  down 
that  it  appeared  like  a  tiny  shell.  She  looked 
a  little  farther  up,  and  her  eyes  fell  on  a  red 
cap,  and  under  the  cap  she  saw  a  young  man, 
who  was  working  his  way  up  the  almost  per- 
pendicular side  of  the  mountain.  "  Dear  me, 
who  can  that  be  ?  "  asked  Aslaug,  as  she  let  go 
of  the  birch  and  sprang  far  back. 

She  dared  not  answer  her  own  question,  for 
she  knew  very  well  who  it  was.  She  threw 
herself  down  on  the  greensward  and  took  hold 
of  the  grass  with  both  hands,  as  though  it  were 
she  who  must  not  let  go  her  hold.  But  the 
grass  came  up  by  the  roots. 

She  cried  aloud  and  prayed  God  to  help 
Thore.  But  then  it  struck  her  that  this  con- 
duct of  Thore's  was  really  tempting  God,  and 
therefore  no  help  could  be  expected. 

"  Just  this  once  !  "  she  implored. 

And  she  threw  her  arms  around  the  dog,  as 
if  it  were  Thore  she  were  keeping  from  loosing 


A   DANGEROUS   WOOING.  271 

bis  hold.  She  rolled  over  the  grass  with  him, 
and  the  moments  seemed  years.  But  then  the 
dog  tore  himself  away.  "  Bow-bow,"  he  barked 
over  the  brink  of  the  steep  and  wagged  his  tail. 
"  Bow-wow,"  he  barked  at  Aslaug,  and  threw 
his  forepaws  up  on  her.  "  Bow-wow,"  over  the 
precipice  again  ;  and  a  red  cap  appeared  over 
the  brow  of  the  mountain  and  Thore  lay  in  her 
arms. 

Now  when  old  Knud  Huseby  heard  of  this, 
he  made  a  very  sensible  remark,  for  he  said,  — 

"  That  boy  is  worth  having ;  the  girl  shall 
be  his." 


THE   BEAR   HUNTER. 


A  woese  boy  to  tell  lies  than  the  priest's 
oldest  son  could  scarcely  be  found  in  the  whole 
parish  ;  he  was  also  a  very  good  reader ;  there 
was  no  lack  on  that  score,  and  what  he  read 
the  peasants  were  glad  to  hear,  but  when  it 
was  something  they  were  well  pleased  with,  he 
would  make  up  more  of  the  same  kind,  as  much 
as  he  thought  they  wanted.  His  own  stories 
were  mostly  about  strong  men  and  about  love. 

Soon  the  priest  noticed  that  the  threshing  up 
in  the  barn  was  being  done  in  a  more  and  more 
lazy  manner ;  he  went  to  see  what  the  matter 
w7as,  and  behold  it  was  Thorvald,  who  stood 
there  telling  stories.  Soon  the  quantity  of 
wood  brought  home  from  the  forest  became 
wonderfully  small ;  he  went  to  see  what  the 
trouble  was,  and  there  stood  Thorvald  again, 
telling  stories.  There  must  be  an  end  to  this, 
thought  the  priest;  and  he  sent  the  boy  to  the 
nearest  school. 


THE   BEAR   HUNTER.  273 

Only  peasant  children  attended  this  school, 
but  the  priest  thought  it  would  be  too  expen- 
sive to  keep  a  private  tutor  for  this  one  boy. 
But  Thorvald  had  not  been  a  week  among  the 
scholars,  before  one  of  his  schoolmates  came  in 
pale  as  a  corpse,  and  said  he  had  met  some  of 
the  underground  folk  coming  along  the  road. 
Another  boy,  still  paler,  followed,  and  said  that 
he  had  actually  seen  a  man  without  a  head  walk- 
ing about  and  moving  the  boats  down  by  the 
landing-place.  And  what  was  worst  of  all,  little 
Knud  Pladsen  and  his  young  sister,  one  even- 
ing, as  they  were  returning  home  from  school, 
came  running  back,  almost  out  of  their  senses, 
crying,  and  declaring  that  they  had  heard  the 
bear  up  near  the  parsonage ;  nay,  little  Marit 
had  even  seen  his.  gray  eyes  sparkle.  But  now 
the  school-master  got  terribly  angry,  struck  the 
table  with  his  ferule,  and  asked  what  the  deuce 
—  God  pardon  me  my  wicked  sin  —  had  gotten 
into  the  school-children. 

"  One  is  growing  more  crazy  than  the  other," 
said  he.  "  There  lurks  a  hulder  in  every  bush ; 
there  sits  a  merman  under  every  boat ;  the  bear 
is  out  in  midwinter!  Have  you  no  more  faith 
in  your  God  or  in  your  catechism,"  quoth  he, 
"  or  do  you  believe  in  all  kinds  of  deviltry, 
and  in  all  the  terrible  powers  of  darkness,  and 

1S 


274  THE   BEAR   HUNTER. 

in  bears  roaming  about  in  the  middle  of  win- 
ter ?  " 

But  then  he  calmed  down  somewhat  after  a 
while,  and  asked  little  Marit  whether  she  really 
did  not  dare  to  go  home.  The  child  sobbed 
and  cried,  and  declared  that  it  was  utterly  im- 
possible. The  school-master  then  said  that 
Thorvald,  who  was  the  eldest  of  those  remain- 
ing, should  go  with  her  through  the  wood. 

"  No,  he  has  seen  the  bear  himself,"  cried 
Marit ;  "  it  was  he  who  told  us  about  it." 

Thorvald  shrank  within  himself,  where  he 
was  sitting,  especially  when  the  school-master 
looked  at  him  and  drew  the  ferule  affection- 
ately through  his  left  hand. 

"  Have  you  seen  the  bear?  "  he  asked,  quietly. 

"  Well,  at  any  rate,  I  know,"  said  Thorvald, 
"  that  our  overseer  found  a  bear's  den  up  in  the 
priest's  wood,  the  day  he  was  out  ptarmigan 
shooting." 

"  But  have  you  seen  the  bear  yourself  ?  " 

"It  was  not  one,  it  was  two  large  ones,  and 
perhaps  there  were  two  smaller  ones  besides, 
as  the  old  ones  generally  have  their  last  year's 
cubs  and  this  year's,  too,  with  them." 

"  But  have  you  seen  them  ?  "  reiterated  the 
school-master,  still  more  mildly,  as  he  kept 
drawing  the  ferule  between  his  fingers. 


THE   BEAR    HUNTER.  275 

Thorvald  was  silent  for  a  moment. 

"  I  saw  the  bear  that  Lars,  the  hunter,  felled 
last  year,  at  any  rate." 

Then  the  school-master  came  a  step  nearer, 
and  asked,  so  pleasantly  that  the  boy  became 
frightened,  — 

"  Have  you  seen  the  bears  up  in  the  parson- 
age wood,  I  ask  ?  " 

Thorvald  did  not  say  another  word. 

"  Perhaps  your  memory  did  not  serve  you 
quite  right  this  time?  "  said  the  school-master, 
taking  the  boy  by  the  jacket  collar  and  strik- 
ing his  own  side  with  the  ferule. 

Thorvald  did  not  say  a  wTord  ;  the  other  chil- 
dren dared  not  look  that  way.  Then  the 
school-master  said  earnestly,  — 

"  It  is  wicked  for  a  priest's  son  to  tell  lies, 
and  still  more  wicked  to  teach  the  poor  peasant 
children  to  do  such  things." 

And  so  the  boy  escaped  for  that  time 

But  the  next  day  at  school  (the  teacher  had 
been  called  up  to  the  priest's  and  the  children 
were  left  to  themselves)  Marit  was  the  first  one 
to  ask  Thorvald  to  tell  her  something  about  the 
bear  again. 

"  But  you  get  so  frightened,"  said  he. 

"  Oh,  I  think  I  will  have  to  stand  it,"  said 
she,  and  moved  closer  to  her  brother. 


276  THE  BEAR   HUNTER. 

"  Ah,  now  you  had  better  believe  it  will  be 
shot ! "  said  Thorvald,  and  nodded  his  head. 
"  There  has  come  a  fellow  to  the  parish  who 
is  able  to  shoot  it.  No  sooner  had  Lavs,  the 
hunter,  heard  about  the  bear's  den  up  in  the 
parsonage  wood,  than  he  came  running  through 
seven  whole  parishes  with  a  rifle  as  heavy  as 
the  upper  mill-stone,  and  as  long  as  from  here 
to  Hans  Volden,  who  sits  yonder." 

"Mercy  !  "  cried  all  the  children. 

"  As  long  ?  "  repeated  Thorvald  ;  "  yes,  it  is 
certainly  as  long  as  from  here  to  yonder 
bench." 

"Have  you  seen  it?"  asked  Ole  Boen. 

"  Have  I  seen  it,  do  you  say  ?  Why,  I  have 
been  helping  to  clean  it,  and  that  is  what  Lars 
will  not  allow  everybody  to  do,  let  me  tell  you. 
Of  course  I  could  not  lift  it,  but  that  made  no 
difference  ;  I  only  cleaned  the  lock,  and  that  is 
not  the  easiest  work,  I  can  tell  you." 

"  People  say  that  gun  of  Lars's  has  taken  to 
missing  its  mark  of  late,"  said  Hans  Volden, 
leaning  back,  with  both  his  feet  on  the  desk. 
"  Ever  since  that  time  when  Lars  shot,  up  at 
Osmark,  at  a  bear  that  was  asleep,  it  misses 
6re  twice  and  misses  the  mark  the  third  time." 

"  Yes,  ever  since  he  shot  at  a  bear  that  was 
asleep,"  chimed  in  the  girls. 


THE   BEAR*  HUNTER.  277 

"  The  fool !  "  added  the  boys. 

"  There  is  only  one  way  in  which  this  diffi- 
culty with  the  rifle  can  be  remedied,"  said  (  He 
Boen,  "  and  that  is  to  thrust  a  living  snake 
down  its  barrel." 

"Yes,  we  all  know  that,"  said  the  girls. 
They  wanted  to  hear  something  new. 

"It  is  now  winter,  and  snakes  are  not  to  be 
found,  and  so  Lars  cannot  depend  very  much 
upon  his  rifle,"  said  Hans  Volden,  thought- 
fully. 

"  He  wants  Niels  Boen  along  with  him,  does 
he  not?"  asked  Thorvald. 

"  Yes,"  said  the  boy  from  Boen's,  who  was, 
of  course,  best  posted  in  regard  to  this  ;  "  but 
Niels  will  get  permission  neither  from  his 
mother  nor  from  his  sister.  His  father  cer- 
tainly died  from  the  wrestle  he  had  with  the 
bear  up  at  the  steter  last  year,  and  now  they 
have  no  one  but  Niels." 

"  Is  it  so  dangerous,  then  ?  "  asked  a  little 
boy. 

"  Dangerous  ?  "  cried  Thorvald.  "  The  bear 
has  as  much  sense  as  ten  men,  and  as  much 
strength  as  twelve." 

"  Yes,  we  know  that,"  said  the  girls  once 
more.  They  were  bent  on  hearing  something 
new. 


278  THE   BEAR   HUNTER. 

"  But  Niels  is  like  his  father;  I  dare  say  he 
will  go  along,"  continued  Thorvald. 

"  Of  course  he  will  go  along,"  said  Ole 
Boen  ;  "  this  morning  early,  before  any  one  was 
stirring  over  yonder  at  our  gard,  I  saw  Niels 
Boen,  Lars  the  hunter,  and  one  man  more, 
going  up  the  mountain  with  their  rifles.  I 
should  not  be  surprised  if  they  were  going  to 
the  parsonage  wood." 

"  Was  it  early  ?  "  asked  the  children,  in  con- 
cert. 

"  Very  early  !  I  was  up  before  mother,  and 
started  the  fire." 

"  Did  Lars  have  the  long  rifle  ?  "  asked 
Hans. 

"  That  I  do  not  know,  but  the  one  he  had 
was  as  long  as  from  here  to  the  chair." 

"  Oh,  what  a  story  !  "  said  Thorvald. 

"  Why,  you  said  so  yourself,"  answered  Ole. 

"  No,  the  long  rifle  which  I  saw,  he  will 
scarcely  use  any  more." 

"  Well,  this  one  was,  at  all  events,  as  long  — 
as  long  —  as  from  here,  nearly  over  to  the 
chair." 

"  Ah  !  perhaps  he  had  it  with  him  then, 
after  all." 

"  Just  think,"  said  Marit,  "now  they  are  up 
among  the  bears." 


THE   BEAR   HUNTER.  279 

"  And  at  this  very  moment  they  may  be  in  a 
fight,"  said  Thorvald. 

Then  followed  a  deep,  nay,  almost  solemn 
silence. 

"  I  think  I  will  go,"  said  Thorvald,  taking 
his  cap. 

"  Yes  !  yes  !  then  you  will  find  out  some- 
thing," shouted  all  the  rest,  and  they  became 
full  of  life  again. 

"  But  the  school-master  ?  "  said  he,  and 
stopped. 

"  Nonsense  !  you  are  the  priest's  son,"  said 
Ole  Boen. 

"  Yes,  if  the  school-master  touches  me  with  a 
finger  !  "  said  Thorvald,  with  a  significant  nod, 
in  the  midst  of  the  deep  silence  of  the  rest. 

"  Will  you  hit  him  back  ?  "  asked  they, 
eagerly. 

"Who  knows?"  said  Thorvald,  nodding, 
and  went  away. 

They  thought  it  best  to  study  while  he  was 
gone,  but  none  of  them  were  able  to  do  so,  — 
they  had  to  keep  talking  about  the  bear.  They 
began  guessing  how  the  affair  would  turn  out. 
Hans  bet  with  Ole  that  Lars's  rifle  had  missed 
fire,  and  that  the  bear  had  sprung  at  him.  Lit- 
tle Knud  Pladsen  thought  they  had  all  fared 
badly,  and  the  girls  took  his  side.  But  there 
«ame  Thorvald. 


280  THE   BEAR   HUNTER. 

"  Let  ns  go,"  said  he,  as  lie  pulled  open  the 
door,  so  excited  that  he  could  scarcely  speak. 

"  But  the  school-master?  "  asked  some  of  the 
children. 

"The  deuce  take  the  school-master !  The 
bear  !  The  bear  !  "  cried  Thorvald,  and  could 
say  no  more. 

"  Is  it  shot?  "  asked  one,  very  softly,  and  the 
others  dared  not  draw  their  breath. 

Thorvald  sat  panting  for  a  while,  finally  he 
got  up,  mounted  one  of  the  benches,  swung  his 
cap,  and  shouted,  — 

"  Let  us  go,  I  say.  I  will  take  all  the  re- 
sponsibility." 

"  But  where  shall  we  go  ?  "  asked  Hans. 

"  The  largest  bear  has  been  borne  down,  the 
others  still  remain.  Niels  Boen  has  been  badly 
hurt,  because  Lars's  rifle  missed  its  mark,  and 
the  bears  rushed  straight  at  them.  The  boy 
who  went  with  them  saved  himself  only  by 
throwing  himself  flat  on  the  ground,  and  pre- 
tending to  be  dead,  and  the  bear  did  not  touch 
him.  As  soon  as  Lars  and  Niels  had  killed 
their  bear,  they  shot  his  also.     Hurrah  !  " 

"  Hurrah  !  "  shouted  all,  both  girls  and  boys, 
and  up  from  their  seats,  and  out  through  the 
door,  they  sprang,  and  off  they  ran  over  field 
and  wood  to  Boen,  as  though  there  was  no  such 
thing  as  a  school-master  in  the  whole  world. 


THE   BEAR   HUNTER.  281 

The  girls  soon  complained  that  they  were 
not  able  to  keep  up,  but  the  boys  took  them  by 
the  hand  and  away  they  all  rushed. 

"  Take  care  not  to  touch  it !  "  said  Tliorvald ; 
"  it  sometimes  happens  that  the  bears  become 
alive  again." 

"  Is  that  so  ?  "  asked  Marit. 

"  Yes,  and  they  appear  in  a  new  form,  so 
have  a  care  !  " 

And  they  kept  running* 

"  Lars  shot  the  largest  one  ten  times  before  it 
fell,"  he  began  again. 

"  Just  think !  ten  times  !  " 

And  they  kept  running. 

"  And  Niels  stabbed  it  eighteen  times  with 
his  knife  before  it  fell !  " 

"  Mercy  !  what  a  bear  !  " 

And  the  children  ran  so  that  the  sweat 
poured  down  from  their  faces. 

Finally  they  reached  the  place.  Ole  Boen 
pushed  the  door  open  and  got  in  first. 

"  Have  a  care  !  "  cried  Hans  after  him. 

Marit  and  a  little  girl  that  Tliorvald  and 
Hans  had  led  between  them,  were  the  next  ones, 
and  then  came  Thorvald,  who  did  not  go  far 
forward,  but  remained  standing  where  he  could 
observe  the  whole  scene. 

"  See  the  blood  !  "  said  he  to  Hans. 


282  THE   BEAR   HUNTER. 

The  others  hardly  knew  whether  they  should 
venture  in  just  yet. 

"  Do  you  see  it  ?  "  asked  a  girl  of  a  boy,  who 
stood  by  her  side  in  the  door. 

Yes,  it  is  as  large  as  the  captain's  large 
horse,"  answered  he,  and  went  on  talking  to 
her.  It  was  bound  with  iron  chains,  he  said, 
and  had  even  broken  the  one  that  had  been 
put  about  its  fore-legs.  He  could  see  distinctly 
that  it  was  alive,  and  the  blood  was  flowing 
from  it  like  a  waterfall. 

Of  course,  this  was  not  true ;  but  they  forgot 
that  when  they  caught  sight  of  the  bear,  the 
rifle,  and  Niels,  who  sat  there  with  bandaged 
wounds  after  the  fight  with  the  bear,  and  when 
they  heard  old  Lars  the  hunter  tell  how  all  had 
happened.  So  eagerly,  and  with  so  much  in- 
terest did  they  look  and  listen,  that  they  did 
not  observe  that  some  one  came  behind  them 
who  also  began  to  tell  his  story,  and  that  in 
the  following  manner  :  — 

"  I  will  teach  you  to  leave  the  school  with- 
out my  permission,  that  I  will !  " 

A  cry  of  fright  arose  from  the  whole  crowd, 
and  out  through  the  door,  through  the  veranda, 
and  out  into  the  yard  they  ran.  Soon  they  ap- 
peared like  a  lot  of  black  balls,  rolling  one  by 
one,  over  the  snow-white  field,  and  when   the 


THE   BEAR   HUNTER  283 

Bchool- master  on  his  old  legs  followed  them  to 
the  school-house,  he  could  hear  the  children 
reading  from  afar  off ;  they  read  until  the  walls 
fairly  rattled. 

Aye,  that  was  a  glorious  day,  the  day  when 
the  bear-hunter  came  home  !  It  began  in  sun- 
shine and  ended  in  rain,  but  such  days  are 
usually  the  best  growing  days. 


THE   FATHER. 


The  man  whose  story  is  here  to  be  told  was 
the  wealthiest  and  most  influential  person  in 
his  parish ;  his  name  was  Thord  Overaas.  He 
appeared  in  the  priest's  study  one  day,  tall  and 
earnest. 

"  I  have  gotten  a  son,"  said  he,  "  and  I  wish 
to  present  him  for  baptism." 

"  What  shall  his  name  be  ?  " 

"  Finn,  —  after  my  father." 

"  And  the  sponsors  ?  " 

They  were  mentioned,  and  proved  to  be  the 
best  men  and  women  of  Thord's  relations  in  the 
parish. 

"  Is  there  anything  else  ? "  inquired  the 
priest,  and  looked  up. 

The  peasant  hesitated  a  little. 

"  I  should  like  very  much  to  have  him  bap- 
tized by  himself,"  said  he,  finally. 

"  That  is  to  say  on  a  week-day  ?  " 

"  Next  Saturday,  at  twelve  o'clock  noon." 


THE   FATHER.  285 

"  Is  there  anything  else  ? "  inquired  the 
priest. 

"  There  is  nothing  else  ;  "  and  the  peasant 
twirled  his  cap,  as  though  he  were  about  to  go. 

Then  the  priest  rose.  "  There  is  yet  this, 
however,"  said  he,  and  walking  toward  Thord, 
he  took  him  by  the  hand  and  looked  gravely 
into  his  eyes  :  "  God  grant  that  the  child  may 
become  a  blessing  to  you  !  " 

One  day  sixteen  years  later,  Thord  stood 
once  more  in  the  priest's  study. 

"  Really,  you  carry  your  age  astonishingly 
well,  Thord,"  said  the  priest ;  for  he  saw  no 
change  whatever  in  the  man. 

"  That  is  because  I  have  no  troubles,"  re- 
plied Thord. 

To  this  the  priest  said  nothing,  but  after  a 
while  he  asked :  "  What  is  your  pleasure  this 
evening  ?  " 

"  I  have  come  this  evening  about  that  son  of 
mine  who  is  to  be  confirmed  to-morrow." 

"  He  is  a  bright  boy." 

"  I  did  not  wish  to  pay  the  priest  until  I 
heard  what  number  the  boy  would  have  when 
he  takes  his  place  in  church  to-morrow." 

"  He  will  stand  number  one." 

"  So  I  have  heard  ;  and  here  are  ten  dollars 
for  the  priest." 


286  THE   FATHER. 

"  Is  there  anything  else  I  can  do  for  you  ?  " 
inquired  the  priest,  fixing  his  eyes  on  Thord. 

"  There  is  nothing  else." 

Thord  went  out. 

Eight  years  more  rolled  by,  and  then  one 
day  a  noise  was  heard  outside  of  the  priest's 
study,  for  many  men  were  approaching,  and  at 
their  head  was  Thord,  who  entered  first. 

The  priest  looked  up  and  recognized  him. 

"  You  come  well  attended  this  evening, 
Thord,"  said  he. 

"  I  am  here  to  request  that  the  bans  may  be 
published  for  my  son  :  he  is  about  to  marry 
Karen  Storliden,  daughter  of  Gudmund,  who 
stands  here  beside  me." 

"  Why,  that  is  the  richest  girl  in  the  par- 
ish." 

"  So  they  say,"  replied  the  peasant,  stroking 
back  his  hair  with  one  hand. 

The  priest  sat  a  while  as  if  in  deep  thought, 
then  entered  the  names  in  his  book,  without 
making  any  comments,  and  the  men  wrote  their 
signatures  underneath.  Thord  laid  three  dol- 
lars on  the  table. 

"  One  is  all  I  am  to  have,"  said  the  priest. 

"  I  know  that  very  well ;  but  he  is  my  only 
child  ;  I  want  to  do  it  handsomely." 

The  priest  took  the  money 


THE   FATHER.  287 

"  This  is  now  the  third  time,  Thord,  that 
you  have  come  here  on  your  son's  account." 

"  But  now  I  am  through  with  him,"  said 
Thord,  and  folding  up  his  pocket-book  he  said 
farewell  and  walked  away. 

The  men  slowly  followed  him. 

A  fortnight  later,  the  father  and  son  were 
rowing  across  the  lake,  one  calm,  still  day,  to 
Storliden  to  make  arrangements  for  the  wed- 
ding. 

"  This  thwart  is  not  secure,"  said  the  son, 
and  stood  up  to  straighten  the  seat  on  which 
he  was  sitting. 

At  the  same  moment  the  board  he  was  stand- 
ing on  slipped  from  under  him  ;  he  threw  out 
his  arms,  uttered  a  shriek,  and  fell  overboard. 

"  Take  hold  of  the  oar  ! "  shouted  the  father, 
springing  to  his  feet  and  holding  out  the  our. 

But  when  the  son  had  made  a  couple  of  ef- 
forts he  grew  stiff. 

"  Wait  a  moment !  "  cried  the  father,  and 
began  to  row  toward  his  son. 

Then  the  son  rolled  over  on  his  back,  gave 
his  father  one  long  look,  and  sank. 

Thord  could  scarcely  believe  it ;  he  held  the 
boat  still,  and  stared  at  the  spot  where  his  son 
had  gone  down,  as  though  he  must  surely  come 
to  the  surface  again.    There  rose  some  bubbles, 


288  THE   FATHER. 

then  some  more,  and  finally  one  large  one  that 
burst ;  and  the  lake  lay  there  as  smooth  and 
bright  as  a  mirror  again. 

For  three  days  and  three  nights  people  saw 
the  father  rowing  round  and  round  the  spot, 
without  taking  either  food  or  sleep ;  he  was 
dragging  the  lake  for  the  body  of  his  son.  And 
toward  morning  of  the  third  day  he  found  it, 
and  carried  it  in  his  arms  up  over  the  hills  to 
his  gard. 

It  might  have  been  about  a  year  from  that 
day,  when  the  priest,  late  one  autumn  evening, 
heard  some  one  in  the  passage  outside  of  the 
door,  carefully  trying  to  find  the  latch.  The 
priest  opened  the  door,  and  in  walked  a  tall, 
thin  man,  with  bowed  form  and  white  hair. 
The  priest  looked  long  at  him  before  he  recog- 
nized him.     It  was  Thord. 

"  Are  you  out  walking  so  late  ? "  said  the 
priest,  and  stood  still  in  front  of  him. 

"  Ah,  yes  !  it  is  late,"  said  Thord,  and  took 
a  seat. 

The  priest  sat  down  also,  as  though  waiting. 
A  long,  long  silence  followed.  At  last  Thord 
said,  — 

"  I  have  something  with  me  that  I  should 
like  to  give  to  the  poor  ;  I  want  it  to  be  in 
vested  as  a  legacy  in  mv  son's  name." 


THE   FATHER.  289 

He  rose,  laid  some  money  on  the  table,  and 
sat  down  again.     The  priest  counted  it. 

"  It  is  a  great  deal  of  money,"  said  he. 

"  It  is  half  the  price  of  my  gard.  I  sold  it 
to-day." 

The  priest  sat  long  in  silence.  At  last  he 
asked,  but  gently,  — 

"  What  do  you  propose  to  do  now,  Thord  ?  " 

"  Something  better." 

They  sat  there  for  a  while,  Thord  with  down- 
cast eyes,  the  priest  with  his  eyes  fixed  on 
Thord.  Presently  the  priest  said,  slowly  and 
softly, — 

"  I  think  your  son  has  at  last  brought  you  a 
true  blessing." 

"  Yes,  I  think  so  myself,"  said  Thord,  look- 
ing up,  while  two  big  tears  coursed  slowly  down 
his  cheeks. 

19 


THE   EAGLE'S   NEST. 


The  End  regards  was  the  name  of  a  small 
solitary  parish,  surrounded  by  lofty  mountains. 
It  lay  in  a  flat  and  fertile  valley,  and  was  in- 
tersected by  a  broad  river  that  flowed  down 
from  the  mountains.  This  river  emptied  into 
a  lake,  which  was  situated  close  by  the  parish, 
and.  presented  a  fine  view  of  the  surrounding 
country. 

Up  the  Endre-Lake  the  man  had  come  row- 
ing, who  had  first  cleared  this  valley  ;  his  name 
was  Endre,  and  it  was  his  descendants  who 
dwelt  here.  Some  said  he  had  fled  hither  on 
account  of  a  murder  he  had  committed,  and  that 
was  why  his  family  were  so  dark  ;  others  said 
this  was  on  account  of  the  mountains,  which 
shut  out  the  sun  at  five  o'clock  of  a  midsum- 
mer afternoon. 

Over  this  parish  there  hung  an  eagle's  nest. 
It  was  built  on  a  cliff  far  up  the  mountains  ;  all 
could  see  the  mother  eagle  alight  in  her  nest, 


THE  eagle's  nest.  291 

but  no  one  could  reach  it.  The  male  eagle 
went  sailing  over  the  parish,  now  swooping 
down  after  a  lamb,  now  after  a  kid ;  once  he 
had  also  taken  a  little  child  and  borne  it  away  ; 
therefore  there  was  no  safety  in  the  parish  as 
long  as  the  eagle  had  a  nest  in  this  mountain. 
There  was  a  tradition  among  the  people,  that 
in  old  times  there  were  two  brothers  who  had 
climbed  up  to  the  nest  and  torn  it  down  ;  but 
nowadays  there  was  no  one  who  was  able  to 
reach  it. 

Whenever  two  met  at  the  Endregards,  they 
talked  about  the  eagle's  nest,  and  looked  up. 
Every  one  knew,  when  the  eagles  reappeared  in 
the  new  year,  where  they  had  swooped  down 
and  done  mischief,  and  who  had  last  endeav- 
ored to  reach  the  nest.  The  youth  of  the  place, 
from  early  boyhood,  practiced  climbing  mount- 
ains and  trees,  wrestling  and  scuffling,  in  order 
that  one  day  they  might  reach  the  cliff  and  de- 
molish the  nest,  as  those  two  brothers  had 
done. 

At  the  time  of  which  this  story  tells,  the 
best  boy  at  the  Endregards  was  named  Leif,  and 
he  was  not  of  the  Endre  family.  He  had  curly 
hair  and  small  eyes,  was  clever  in  all  play,  and 
was  fond  of  the  fair  sex.  He  early  said  of  him- 
Belf,  that  one  day  he  would  reach  the  eagle's 


292  the  eagle's  nest. 

nest ;  but  old  people  remarked  that  he  should 
not  have  said  so  aloud. 

This  annoyed  him,  and  even  before  he  had 
reached  his  prime  he  made  the  ascent.  It  was 
one  bright  Sunday  forenoon,  early  in  the  sum- 
mer;  the  young  eagles  must  be  just  about 
hatched.  A  vast  multitude  of  people  had  gath- 
ered together  at  the  foot  of  the  mountain  to 
behold  the  feat;  the  old  people  advising  him 
against  attempting  it,  the  young  ones  urging 
him  on. 

But  he  hearkened  only  to  his  own  desires, 
and  waiting  until  the  mother  eagle  left  her  nest, 
he  gave  one  spring  into  the  air,  and  hung  in  a 
tree  several  yards  from  the  ground.  The  tree 
grew  in  a  cleft  in  the  rock,  and  from  this  cleft 
he  began  to  climb  upward.  Small  stones  loos- 
ened under  his  feet,  earth  and  gravel  came  roll- 
ing down,  otherwise  all  was  still,  save  for  the 
stream  flowing  behind,  with  its  suppressed, 
ceaseless  murmur.  Soon  he  had  reached  a  point 
where  the  mountain  began  to  project ;  here  lie 
hung  long  by  one  hand,  while  his  foot  groped 
for  a  sure  resting-place,  for  he  could  not  sec. 
Many,  especially  women,  turned  away,  saving 
he  would  never  have  done  this  had  he  had  par- 
ents living.  He  found  footing  at  last,  however, 
Bought  again,   now  with  the  hand,   now  with 


THE  eagle's  nest.  293 

the  foot,  failed,  slipped,  then  hung  fast  again. 
They  who  stood  below  could  hear  one  another 
breathing. 

Suddenly  there  rose  to  her  feet,  a  tall,  young 
girl,  who  had  been  sitting  on  a  stone  apart 
from  the  rest ;  it  was  said  that  she  had  been 
betrothed  to  Leif  from  early  childhood,  although 
he  was  not  of  her  kindred.  Stretching  out  Inn- 
arms  she  called  aloud':  "Leif,  Leif,  why  do 
you  do  this  ?  "  Every  eye  was  turned  on  her. 
Her  father,  who  was  standing  close  by,  gave 
her  a  stern  look,  but  she  heeded  him  not. 
"  Come  down  again,  Leif,"  she  cried  ;  "  I  love 
you,  and  there  is  nothing  to  be  gained  up 
there  !  " 

They  could  see  that  he  was  considering  ;  he 
hesitated  a  moment  or  two,  and  then  started 
onward.  For  a  long  time  all  went  well,  for  he 
was  sure-footed  and  had  a  strong  grip  ;  but 
after  a  while  it  seemed  as  if  he  were  growing- 
weary,  for  he  often  paused.  Presently  a  little 
stone  came  rolling  down  as  a  harbinger,  and 
every  one  who  stood  there  had  to  watch  its 
course  to  the  bottom.  Some  could  endure  it  no 
longer,  and  went  away.  The  girl  alone  still 
stood  on  the  stone,  and  wringing  her  hands 
continued  to  gaze  upward. 

Once  more  Leif  took  hold  with  one  hand  : 


294  the  eagle's  nest. 

but  it  slipped  ;  she  saw  this  distinctly  ;  then  he 
tried  the  other  ;  it  slipped  also.  "  Leif  ! "  she 
shouted,  so  loud  that  her  voice  rang  through 
the  mountains,  and  all  the  others  chimed  in 
with  her.  "  He  is  slipping !  "  they  cried,  and 
stretched  up  their  hands  to  him,  both  men  and 
women.  He  was  indeed  slipping,  carrying  with 
him  sand,  stones,  and  earth  ;  slipping,  continu- 
ally slipping,  ever  faster  and  faster.  The  peo- 
ple turned  away,  and  then  they  heard  a  rust- 
ling and  scraping  in  the  mountain  behind  them, 
after  which,  something  fell  with  a  heavy  thud, 
like  a  great  piece  of  wet  earth. 

When  they  could  look  round  again,  he  was 
lying  there  crushed  and  mutilated  beyond  rec- 
ognition. The  girl  had  fallen  down  on  the 
stone,  and  her  father  took  her  up  in  his  arms 
and  bore  her  away. 

The  youths  who  had  taken  the  most  pains  to 
incite  Leif  to  the  perilous  ascent  now  dared 
not  lend  a  hand  to  pick  him  up  ;  some  were 
even  unable  to  look  at  him.  So  the  old  people 
had  to  go  forward.  The  eldest  of  them,  as  he 
took  hold  of  the  body,  said :  "  It  is  very  sad  ; 
but,"  he  added,  casting  a  look  upward,  "  it  is, 
after  all,  well  that  something  hangs  so  high 
that  it  cannot  be  reached  by  every  one." 


}     3 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  AT  LOS  ANGELES 

THE  UNIVERSITY  LIBRARY 

This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below 


UN  30  1938 

JUL  2  0  1938 


25 
■1 


RECEIVED 
LOAN  DESK 


j|Al    10 


$4$ 


MAY  2  5  1945, 


'M 


APR  V5 
OEC  2  7  1961 

Form  L-9— 20m-8,'3' 


L  006  339  982  8 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIOMAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


AA    000  759  849 


